


Talk Back Trembling Lips

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Incandescent Hearts [32]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anger, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Compulsion, Courtship, Denial, Developing Relationship, Disrespect, Dominant/Submissive, Emotional Hurt, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Insubordination, Lack Of Respect, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive, Passion, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Self-Denial, Sexual Tension, Triggers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, anguish, emotional tension, hot kisses, song related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-04 11:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Spock and McCoy develop a demeaning carnal relationship based on physical need and sexual gratification instead of mutual love and commitment to each other.





	1. The Way It All Started

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Smoke Gets In Our Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421916) by [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady). 
  * Inspired by [My Fingers Get Burnt Touching You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430658) by [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady). 
  * Inspired by [The Soul Of The Unknown Devil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432854) by [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady). 
  * Inspired by [Breaking Up Is Breaking My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433166) by [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady). 



> Based on a four-part set of drabbles in a series entitled "You Give Me Fever" which were posted in late January, 2018. Those drabbles are actually the middle part of this multi-chaptered fic.
> 
> Title taken from 1963 country hit recorded by Ernie Ashworth. The song lyrics reflect McCoy and Spock's thoughts and the situation that they are in.
> 
> "Everyday our love's a battle royal  
> Dear, it seems that fighting's all we do  
> But if I let you know how much I love you  
> You'd do things to me you shouldn't do"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy disobeys Spock and rushes to the aid of fallen comrades.

"I thought that these Stone Age aboriginals were supposed to be friendly!” McCoy yelled at Spock as they huddled behind scant cover as rocks and primitive spears hurtled in their direction. “They don’t seem very friendly to me!"

The landing party from the Starship Enterprise had been ambushed and scattered into at least two groups. Several red shirts clustered near Spock and McCoy behind whatever cover that they could find.

"Apparently our intelligence report was incorrect, Doctor," Spock answered as he automatically jerked away from a spear which landed near him.

"No shit!" McCoy retorted as he glared at the offending spear which had landed so close to them. "And what does intelligence tell you about our current situation now?!"

"That we are very deep in what you just mentioned," Spock muttered.

McCoy grinned at him in appreciation. "Why, Mr. Spock! You just told a funny! I didn't know that you had it in ya!"

"I regret that our dire situation has forced me to speak in such a crude manner. I do apologize for being so insensitive."

"Don't bother. I’m not apologizing for my strong language, and neither should you. It seems highly appropriate at the moment.” He glanced at Spock. “In fact, it makes you seem a little more human to me. I kinda like it. Maybe there's something more going on inside of you besides a computer system, after all. Maybe there’s hope for you yet."

"This is neither the time nor the place to be discussing my inner workings, Doctor," Spock said grimly.

"It's when the subject came up, Commander. I gotta grab my opportunities when they arise. Hard telling when your innards will hold my attention so thoroughly again. Maybe at your next routine physical. Then I might be inclined to give them a thorough going-over just for the helluva it!"

"Nevertheless, I need to be considering our current status," Spock noted, partly to distract McCoy from any talk of upcoming physicals. But more pressing was their current dire circumstances. "I am in command on this mission and am therefore responsible for all of you." Spock raised his head to assess their situation, then ducked when a spear flew dangerously close to him.

"What the hell?!" McCoy protested as he pulled Spock down beside him. "Will you watch what you are doing?! We don't need any more casualties. Being responsible for us doesn’t mean that you have to draw enemy fire! Those guys out there are gonna draw a bead on anything that moves from our direction. They might even think that pointed ears would make a helluva trophy. I’d hate to think of your ears hanging off some alien’s medicine stick. I'm kinda used to seeing them around the Enterprise. It'd probably make my whole world lopsided if I didn't see them anymore."

"There are times, Doctor, when what you say is very astute.” He looked around. “We are in a bad situation, and our party has been divided. The surprise attack scattered us. "

"I know. That’s why they call it a surprise.”

Spock rolled his eyes at McCoy’s snide remark. But McCoy must not have intended it that way, because he kept on talking.

”I still gotta get to our three guys pinned down over there. Some of them are probably wounded."

"We cannot risk ourselves to give them aid. Jim will send help as soon as he realizes that we have not returned to the ship. We are not going to be making our rendezvous, so he will know that something has happened to us."

"I can't sit here doing nothing until then! Our guys might be dying over there! Hell," he muttered as he measured the distance with his eyes. "I'm going for it!"

Spock grabbed McCoy's upper arm as the doctor prepared to start running. “Do not risk yourself, Doctor.”

“But there are three people down out there! Our people, Spock! Needing help! You can’t stop me from doing my duty!”

“I can stop you from risking your life foolishly, and I will, Doctor.”

McCoy strained against Spock’s hold on him. His eyes were wild. “Spock! Stand aside and let me do my job!”

“May I remind you that I am the one who is in command, Dr. McCoy?”

“And may I remind you that I answer to a higher command? And so do you, you pigheaded--”

Spock was having a very difficult time of keeping his temper, and his eyes were shooting off sparks that indicated dark fires blazing deep inside him. It was very obvious to McCoy that Spock was stirred and could explode. McCoy would like to witness such a loss of emotional control, but he figured that this was not the time or the place for that sort of demonstration. They had a lot of other stuff to think about first. Stuff like survival.

“Dr. McCoy, may I also remind you that you are coming very close to being insubordinate? To disobey a direct order could get you in serious trouble when we get back to the ship.”

“And may I remind you that none of us may live to get back to the Enterprise?!” McCoy snipped back. “And right now, it looks like there’s a good possibility that we won’t.”

“In that case, I want to know that I did my duty for as long as I was able.”

“So do I! Don’t you think that I’m not feeling the same way?! And you’re keeping me from doing mine. I’m a doctor! Let me doctor! Now, stand aside!”

“I cannot do that. I am responsible for your life.”

“What about the other guys, Spock? You’re responsible for them, too.”

Spock bit down on his lips. It was obvious that he was torn about what to do.

McCoy changed tactics and decided to appeal to Spock’s humanity. McCoy held out his hand in a plea for reason. “Spock, we have shipmates out there, needing my help. Won’t you let me help them?” He threw in his last ace, a biggy. “Please?”

But Spock would not be swayed. “I will not allow you to risk yourself for something that may already be beyond your help.”

McCoy sighed in defeat.

“Commander Spock!” DeVore demanded as he rushed up. “There’s danger of our flank being breached!”

Turning to DeVore, Spock said, “We need a distraction.” He forgot about McCoy and his humanitarian efforts in light of this new crisis.

At that moment, McCoy saw his opportunity. He took off running for his three crew mates whose status was unknown.

“Commander!” DeVore yelled as he looked behind Spock and pointed.

Spock's heart sank. Even before he turned, he knew what McCoy had done. Spock whirled around with bulging eyes. “Dr. McCoy!” he yelled uselessly at the back of the man rushing across the open field toward the trapped crew.

The aliens saw the foolish charge by the lone Earthling and concentrated their fire on him.

Spock gasped as he stopped the foot that had automatically taken a step forward to run after McCoy. 

McCoy was in danger!

“Cover McCoy with laser fire!” Spock barked at DeVore and any of his crew who were close enough to hear him. Then he grimaced as he watched. That’s all he could do to help that grandstanding doctor who was just trying to heed his medical calling.

McCoy wove an erratic pattern while primitive spears flew around him. Thank goodness, the aliens didn’t have modern weapons, or else he would have had no chance of succeeding in his mission. He expected at any moment, though, to be skewered through the body by a long spear and to die on his feet before he hit the ground. At least it would be quick, and he wouldn’t suffer or, worse yet, linger. But, miraculously, he kept on running.

McCoy knew that the only reason that he was still drawing breath was because Spock had opened laser fire to cover him. That Vulcan was good for something, after all, he thought. Damn his pointed ears, I’ll have to remember to thank him for saving my worthless hide. Again.

Then McCoy dove into the sanctuary containing the wounded crew and promptly forgot Spock and the Enterprise. All else was secondary to his ministering to the people who were needing his help so badly. Several lives were saved that day, and it was all because of McCoy and his heroic dash to their sides.

Spock frowned. McCoy had made it to the wounded. Now Spock had four men trapped and one less to fight at Spock’s command. Spock’s lips thinned. As if he had ever been in any sort of command over McCoy!

Then Spock’s mind snapped back to business as he noticed that the alien fire was concentrated on the pinned down crew. The aliens were still being distracted by McCoy. Spock could relate. McCoy could be one helluva distraction.

But Spock couldn’t think about that now. He was at an advantage over the aliens. He needed to profit from their mistake of forgetting about the able-bodied men who were not pinned down.

Spock ran forward. “Attack!” he barked.

They did, and saved the day.

But all the way back to the Enterprise, Spock was snappish. He did not say anything to McCoy except for orders. And for once, McCoy was wise enough to keep his distance. But McCoy knew that sooner or later, there would be hell to pay from the grim-faced Vulcan who was shooting daggers through him with those dark, menacing eyes.

McCoy did not have long to wait. Spock just needed to catch McCoy somewhere private, like a day room deserted of everyone but McCoy.

“Do not ever do that again, Doctor,” Spock ordered.

McCoy was trying to unwind from the dangers of the day. Couldn’t he get a little peace to do just that? Did he have to endure a lecture from the piss-ant Vulcan, too?

McCoy was just starting to realize how closely some of those spears had landed to him. Didn’t he even have to get treated for a shoulder wound where one spear had grazed him? In the general excitement of getting back to the Enterprise and treating the wounded, McCoy had not learned of his own injury until Chapel had pointed it out.

McCoy shrugged his shoulder. He could still feel the burn of that wound along his shoulder blade. Or maybe it was his conscience or common sense pleading with him to be more careful in the future. Whatever, he knew he was getting a message from something pissed off, and it wasn’t just the irate Vulcan standing before him.

“You needed a distraction,” McCoy mumbled as he rotated the whiskey glass in his hand. “I believe that I provided that, Commander.” He tried not to let Spock see his grin of satisfaction, but secretly hoped that Spock sensed it. Just to piss the Vulcan off, but not give him any more grounds to do anything about McCoy’s lack of respect.

“And you needed a distraction so you could get to the wounded. DeVore provided that for you.”

That time, McCoy made no effort to hide anything. A blind man could’ve seen his reaction. “Beautiful how it all worked out, isn’t it?” he asked with a lazy smile as he looked up at Spock. “We each got our mission accomplished.”

“And you nearly landed in the brig for your insubordination.”

“But I didn’t,” McCoy muttered as he turned away with his interest once more on his drink.

“Next time, you well might. I suggest that you reconsider your recent actions and improve upon your behavior.”

“And I suggest that you stop threatening me!” McCoy snapped. “Either put up, or shut up!”

“You still could be charged.”

“Yes, I could! And you’d have every right! But we both know that this pissing contest has nothing to do with disobeying the orders of a superior! Don’t you understand?! I had to try to help those people, or die trying!”

During McCoy’s speech, Spock had succeeded in restoring his calmness. “And you very nearly did, Doctor. What would that have done to Captain Kirk?”

McCoy was suddenly subdued as he thought of his best friend Jim Kirk and how his death would have affected Jim. “It would have eaten at him and would have eventually killed him. After all, he is my commanding officer and responsible for my welfare.”

“And what would your loss have done to me? After all, I was your commanding officer on the mission.”

“Ha! That’s easy!” McCoy snorted. “You would have gone stoically on! All in a day’s work! Onward and upward! That’s the motto of a Vulcan with no heart or conscience!”

Spock flinched. “I am sorry that you think so little of me.”

McCoy flinched, too. He knew that he’d scored a direct hit. But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling too proud of himself for what he’d said.

“I had help with that opinion,” McCoy muttered. "You don't bring a whole lot to the table, you know. You're an emotionless robot, and you're proud as hell of it."

McCoy saw Spock grimace and felt like a complete ass.

“Look, let’s just move on and try to do better in the future,” McCoy muttered, half in self-defense and halfway offering an olive branch.

“I would appreciate that very much, Doctor,” Spock answered, then turned and left without another word.

McCoy frowned. Damn it, the green bastard left in a hurry.

And just when McCoy was going to invite him to sit down so they could get to know each other better. Oh, well, maybe next time.

Because he knew that with them, there would be a next time.


	2. About As Well As Oil And Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock confronts McCoy about his behavior.

“How did you and Spock get along together on the mission, Bones?”

McCoy shrugged as he sat nursing a drink in Kirk’s quarters. “We didn’t kill each other.”

Kirk gave him a tolerant half-grin. “The idea was to try to learn how to get along together, not barely maintain civility between the two of you.”

“You’ll have to send two other guys if you want that kind of outcome, Jim.”

Kirk huffed in defeat. “I kinda want you two to get along.”

“I know you do, Jim. And we might. In time.”

“You did cover each other,” Kirk reminded him.

“Hell, yes! And we’ll do it again! We’re shipmates!”

“But are you friends?”

“Kinda. Not like you and I are, though,” McCoy rushed to amend.

“Well, now, you and I have a different history, Bones,” Kirk said with a lazy grin. “We were students together. Buddies. Hell, roommates. Can’t beat old school ties.”

“And Spock was a piss-ant instructor. And now he’s a piss-ant First Officer.”

“Come on, Bones. Play fair. He’s more than that to you, and you know it.”

“The question, Jim, is if he knows it. Who can tell what’s floating around inside that brain of his.”

Kirk gave him his ironic smile. “And here I thought you were always interested in what was inside his heart. You know, when you’re always trying to get him to admit to emotions.”

“Now there’s where you made your mistake. You’re assuming that he has a heart.”

Kirk leaned closer. “He does, Bones. And it’s a true and good one.” Kirk drew back. “You just need to find a different way of locating it. Believe me, it’ll be worth your while.”

McCoy didn’t realize it then, but he would recall those prophetic words for a long time to come.

 

It wasn’t like Leonard McCoy deliberately set out to piss off Spock, it just seemed to work out that way. And McCoy generally had more tolerance for quirky behavior from other people, but something about Spock could really get down inside McCoy and eat at him. It was like they were allergic to each other. McCoy finally decided that some perverse god of the universe was bored and decided to mess with the both of them. Something had to be getting some sort of evil glee out of what was happening to them. It couldn’t be just the bad vibes that reverberated between them.

 

“When did you believe that you were going to get around to reporting the present situation in sickbay, Doctor?” Spock asked haughtily.

“Whenever I have the time to wash the blood and viscera and excrement off my hands and change my clothing for something clean, then I’ll think about reporting the chaotic conditions around here to the powers that be, namely you!” McCoy bellowed as he leaned into Spock’s face. His mouth was screwed around in hateful lines, and fire shot out of his eyes. He glared at the unmovable Vulcan features, then turned abruptly away. “Until that time, Commander, keep your ass outa my sickbay unless you want to don a gown and help. Make yourself useful as well as beautiful! Or get lost.”

“That is no way to talk to your superior officer.”

“Listen!” McCoy snapped and spun to poke a finger into Spock’s chest. “I don’t have time to play nicey nice with you! I’m trying to ‘tidy up’ the mess you made coming back from that planet. Yeah, I know it wasn’t your fault that the shuttle exploded and shot shrapnel into the bellies and chests of everyone aboard. But it wasn't mine, either, so stop trying to lay it at my doorstep."

"I do not--"

"Oh, yes, you do! Look, you feel guilty because you were the guy in charge and had managed to get off the shuttle a moment before the explosion occurred. You’re thinking that you should be lying here injured on a biobed with your crew.”

“I am not feeling guilty--”

“Hang it up, Vulcan!” McCoy growled, once more in Spock’s face. “You’re like any other man in this circumstance! You’ve got a conscience and it’s hurting. Don’t try to tell me any differently.”

“Vulcans do not lie.”

“Only to themselves. And, buddy, you’ve just told yourself a whooper! Jim will be back any minute from his own shuttle mission. I gotta get back to my job, or it really will be my fault if I don’t get your crew patched up.” He paused, feeling sorry for the guy. Maybe Spock’s inability to recognize his own pain could be a bridge for them. “Look, let yourself come down from that pedestal where you’ve put yourself, and live like a real person. Sometimes shit happens like it did today, whether it was your fault or not. Hang it up and go on.”

“Doctor, you keep insisting that I ‘hang it up,’” Spock said in condescending tones. “What and where am I supposed to be doing this ‘hanging up?’”

McCoy looked wild as laughter boiled up inside him. “You’re shitting me! You’re really and truly shitting me!”

“I assure you, Doctor, that I am not.”

“Well, okay, just get lost so I can get some work done.” When Spock didn’t move, McCoy demanded, “Move, Commander! Now!”

Chapel and the other nurses jerked to a halt and stared at the glaring men.

“Show’s over,” McCoy muttered as he turned away. “The commander was just leaving.”

 

McCoy thundered into Spock’s quarters.

“You reported me!”

“What did you expect, Doctor?” Spock asked calmly as he stood up to face his wild looking guest. “You were being disrespectful in sickbay.”

“You weren’t giving me much to respect!”

“You need to stop this erratic behavior at once, Doctor.”

“Or what are you going to do about it?!”

“Need I remind you that you are being insubordinate again? I told you to stop and desist.”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed as he leaned toward Spock and invaded his personal space. “You know that it doesn’t have a thing to do about insubordination! This is between us! You and me! It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Star Fleet or duty or our mutual friend Jim Kirk! It’s a personality conflict!” McCoy suddenly stopped his tirade, and a bitter, knowing grin crossed his face. “What am I talking about? How could it be a personality conflict? You’d have to have a personality before you could be in that kind of conflict now, wouldn’t you?” He looked very smug because he knew he’d scored a huge win, both logically and emotionally. This news should be devastating to the emotionally constipated Vulcan who prided himself on his stiff upper lip. “And, frankly, Commander, I don’t think that you have a personality.”

A couple of heartbeats passed as the two men studied each other. At first, Spock critically assessed McCoy. He knew that McCoy had found a chink in his armor. The problem was that McCoy knew it, too. Or else why would the Earthing be standing there with what any American farm boy would know as his ‘monkey eating shit’ grin?

Then a subtle change came over Spock’s countenance in those few, brief seconds. His smugness returned, and he looked in control of the situation again.

McCoy began to feel a rising panic. Spock was too calm. McCoy had seen Spock’s triumphant look as the shift in power returned to Spock. Even the air in the room felt different. The damn Vulcan had something up his sleeve besides a slender green arm. 

McCoy was right.

“You certainly have part of that statement correct, Doctor.”

“Huh?” McCoy asked and knew that his marks in Debate had just taken a nosedive. ‘Huh?’ That’s all he could manage to retort?! ‘Huh?!’

An angelic, devilish smile settled over Spock’s face. McCoy wouldn’t have believed that such a smile was possible, but he had just witnessed it. What was doubly amazing was that Spock could smile. That should’ve shaken McCoy down to his boots. And it did.

“Part of your statement is indeed correct.”

“And what is that?” McCoy demanded, feeling like he was setting himself up for a punchline.

McCoy was right again. 

Spock seemed to be taking a lot of pleasure in what he was going to say.

McCoy tried to keep the dread out of his eyes. Now he realized that he’d missed his calling. He would’ve made a great straight man for a sanctimonious Vulcan.

Spock took his time. He was relishing this victory. The field was his. 

“You are indeed not thinking, Doctor.”

McCoy’s mind went racing back over their recent conversation. Then he remembered what he’d been saying about Spock’s personality, ‘And, frankly, Commander, I don’t think that you have one.’

It was just one of many banes of countless generations of English teachers, but a commonly used expression in the English language. Referred to as a colloquialism, it was a part of spoken language that was not deemed to be correct when written. Maybe it wasn’t quite an idiom, which McCoy could almost overlook because the literal Spock had trouble with idioms. But Spock was treating it as a grammatical mistake from the uneducated. And from McCoy’s Mother Tongue, at that.

And not only that, but Spock was enjoying the fact that he had caught McCoy in a grammatical error. And that gave McCoy a glimmer of victory for another common argument between them.

“You’re gloating, Vulcan!” McCoy crowed triumphantly. “And that’s a sin!”

“But not an emotion,” Spock pointed out.

“You’re damn lucky about that,” McCoy muttered as he turned aside, knowing that he’d never make the Vulcan concede on that point, either. Suddenly, he was tired of verbal debates with Spock. Hell, he realized that he was just tired of being around the guy. He just wanted to be back around other sinners like himself who made mistakes. At least he’d feel like he belonged with them.

“Now you’ll have to excuse me,” McCoy said in a tired voice. “I have something important to do. Like living.” Hell, what right did the Vulcan have to be judging him?! That thought gave McCoy new strength as he glared at his aggravating debater. “And, frankly, Spock, you wouldn’t have a damn clue about what I’m talking about. Would you?” McCoy’s eyes narrowed. “After all, what does a machine know about living?”

That barb struck tender meat in Spock, and he felt anger flash through his body. “You will go nowhere!”

Spock’s anger stunned McCoy. “Huh?”

“You will not leave my presence until you are dismissed!”

McCoy frowned. “What are you getting all pissy about?”

“You will not address an officer in that manner!”

“Damn it, man! I’m an officer, too! And it’s only because of a duty roster that you’re over me. But that’s just in command. I’m superior to you in so many other ways!”

“You will be silent!”

“Think that will change the facts any, though? Just because you’ve silenced a man doesn’t mean that you’ve convinced him about your thinking. Or changed his mind. Or changed the facts. It just means that you’ve shut him up. I don’t know who that guy was who first said that, but he must’ve been the wisest man who ever lived. He sure has you beaten on logic.”

“You are talking about human behavior and not logic, so it is not pertinent.”

McCoy looked tired, like he’d heard it all before and just didn’t want to hear it again. “Did you ever stop to think that the other guy just doesn’t give a damn, anymore? Did you ever realize that the other guy just wants to sell back his introduction to you and get his refund, because it just isn’t worth the effort anymore to try to knock some sense into that stubborn head of yours? Where do I go for a refund, because I sure as hell am ready for mine.”

Spock let anger take over. It was better than the hurt he was feeling from McCoy’s cutting words. Spock didn’t want to lose McCoy as a friend, but he would do anything to hide that fact. How much better it would have been for all concerned if he could have apologized to McCoy at that point. McCoy, who could spend a day attacking Spock’s arguments from all angles, would be just as quick to defend and forgive Spock if he felt that Spock was contrite and needed defending. McCoy didn’t want to lose Spock’s friendship, either.

But Spock didn’t apologize. He just wanted to stop McCoy’s hurting tirade. Words didn’t seem to work against McCoy, so Spock started pushing. Literally pushing. Pushing McCoy backwards.

“What the hell?!” McCoy protested.

Spock continued. He didn’t so much as touch McCoy as crowd him.

McCoy felt himself shoved back against the wall.

“Hey!”

But Spock stepped closer. For the first time, McCoy felt a little off-balance and at a disadvantage. He even felt a slight physical fear for himself. Vulcans were stronger than human beings. McCoy had had ample proof of Spock’s strength down through the years, especially when Spock was upset or angry.

And whether Spock wanted to admit it or not, he was pissed off at McCoy. And pissed off people do rash things. Which he, and McCoy, were both about to find out about.


	3. And The Angels Wept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy pushes Spock too far, and they stir hidden, unquenchable fires in each other.

Spock leaned closer into McCoy’s personal space. “You will cease speaking in that manner to your superior officer.”

McCoy sighed. Hell, he thought that they’d just gone over this familiar ground.

“And just what are you going to do about it if I don’t?” McCoy challenged.

Spock leaned closer yet. “You do not wish to taste my wrath, Doctor.”

Taste his wrath?! Was Spock kidding?! What century did he think they were in? The Seventeenth, somewhere in a French chateau or an English estate with an out-of-date Earl? McCoy would’ve laughed if Spock wouldn’t have already looked so angry. McCoy figured that would only have pissed off Spock more.

Instead, McCoy did something utterly uncalled for. He felt a little daring to even be thinking about doing it. A part of him felt titillated, too. Besides, what else was he supposed to do with a face that had been thrust only a few inches from his?

McCoy leaned forward and kissed it. 

It was a swift, little peck on the grim Vulcan lips and didn’t last long at all. McCoy had leaned forward and back in the time that it would take for a butterfly to sneeze.

But the effect of the fleeting kiss had been stunning. Spock’s eyes were bugged out and his grim lips had relaxed far enough so that McCoy could see Spock’s lower teeth.

What the hell? That hadn’t been too bad, and the Vulcan didn’t seem to be protesting. McCoy overlooked the fact that Spock was too stunned to move. 

McCoy decided to try the kissing again. He leaned forward and placed his mouth over the lax lips. Not bad, McCoy thought when he finally broke the kiss and pulled his head backwards. Of course, it would’ve been a lot better if the Vulcan would’ve made something of an effort to have helped with the success of the kiss. A puckering of the Vulcan lips would’ve set off all sorts of fireworks for McCoy, but there had been nothing. 

McCoy shrugged as he observed Spock’s glazed eyes and more of Spock’s bottom teeth. It’d been like kissing a large mouth bass that had just died. About that much flabby lips and response had been offered back to McCoy. Not that McCoy had ever kissed a large mouth bass, dead or otherwise. He was just using the comparison to something that had its mouth dropped open as far as Spock did.

He really wished that Spock would stop standing that way, with his mouth dropped open so far. It really wasn’t the best look for Spock. It wasn’t becoming at all. He looked liked a mobile ashtray. But it did have one thing going for it, though. It belonged to the Vulcan, and that was one mouth that McCoy never figured he’d be kissing.

What the hell, McCoy thought as he felt familiar fires beginning to lick into hot flames in his nether regions. Why should he be prejudiced and not give a man a third chance? Maybe Spock just hadn’t gotten the idea the first two times.

Third time’s a charm, McCoy thought as he dove into that great moist expanse at the bottom of Spock’s face again. Time to wake up a dead large mouth bass.

And damn if he didn’t do just that.

The welding of their mouths together was quickly followed by Spock’s hands grasping McCoy’s shoulders. Third time was a charm, McCoy decided. The Vulcan had definitely awakened.

Spock groaned deep in his throat as he shoved McCoy hard into the unyielding wall behind him.

Hell, I’m not going anywhere, McCoy wanted to protest, but didn’t have time. He didn’t have time for anything else except for trying to keep up with the searching hands from the Vulcan that seemed to be grabbing him in all sorts of suddenly aware places on his body. He had no idea that Spock knew to touch some of those spots, and McCoy definitely had no idea that Spock could move that fast.

Damn, damn, give me time! he wanted to protest, but gave up that suggestion as a lost cause. Forget about getting any enjoyment from all of that touching. Just grab something Vulcan and hang on as you’re able.

In the meanwhile, they never broke that welding kiss. It was like kissing a vacuum cleaner nozzle. That Vulcan definitely had been practicing with something intense.

At one point they slid to the floor. They landed with a solid jarring thud. It was a good thing that the floor was there, otherwise they couldn’t have stopped themselves from sliding through eternity. They had other concerns on their minds at the moment.

Would Spock know what to do with a sexually stimulated man at his mercy? McCoy doubted that sort of thing had ever come Spock’s way before. Would Spock even realize what was going on between them? All that he and Spock might get done was some heavy petting. McCoy might eventually be disappointed, but at the moment he was enjoying the kissing and the body stroking that Spock was performing on him. Those damn Vulcan hands were working a kind of magic on McCoy, a magic that he hadn’t sought, but a magic that his body recognized and answered accordingly.

Then McCoy learned that Spock didn’t have to be an expert in what came next. At some point, Mother Nature and Father Instinct took over. All that McCoy knew was that he felt himself being flipped over onto his stomach. And then rough hands were tearing his trousers off his lower body.

I’d really like my pants kept in one piece, McCoy wanted to say. I’m really going to look silly walking back to my quarters in nothing but my uniform tunic. But that was all that he was going to have intact in the way of clothing. It’d take a week to stitch his trousers back together, even if all of the pieces were found back. Did the damn Vulcan have to be so destructive?!

But suddenly all of McCoy’s attention was concentrated on his rectum as Spock started hammering into him. Hell, hell, hell, can’t you use a little more finesse back there, McCoy wanted to yell. But suddenly he had no breath left for yelling. All he knew was the crushing pain and Spock’s grunting and fireworks going off behind his tightly closed eyelids. And through it all, a terrible, wonderful truth kept roaring through his primitive mind. Spock was doing this thing to him. Spock, Spock. Spock, the enigmatic Vulcan that McCoy both slandered and was in awe of. Spock, who was sending him on a roller coaster ride through an expanding universe telescoping away from McCoy in all directions.

And now Spock was also what McCoy was full of. And it was good. So good. So very good.

McCoy could gladly die with that gigantic Vulcan turd wedged up his backside. It felt so very, very good wedged up in there.

McCoy shivered as the Vulcan hands stroked his naked flesh around his swollen rump. McCoy’s flesh must have felt fevered and dry and unyielding, for that was the way it felt to McCoy. McCoy’s warmth may even have felt like something familiar to Spock, something Vulcan, something that would have prospered on his home planet. For this was nothing that seemed familiar to McCoy at all. It had ceased to be his flesh and now seemed as alien as the being leaning over him and skewering him.

And McCoy trembled from that undeniable object buried in him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t wet his dry lips for being aware of that mass inside him. For anytime he shifted, it was there, digging into him, refusing to be denied, yet thrilling him and making him want to cry for joy.

It was as if he grew around that object rammed inside him, instead of the object being something lately introduced to his system where no object like that had ever resided before. For that was a virgin area to intercourse. A girl had touched him there once and played around with his hole until he thought that he would defecate into those snobby Bostonian hands, but no guy had ever touched him there. Hell, no guy had ever indicated any desire to do anything like that to McCoy.

And now, some guy had not only touched him there, but had shoved molten lava up his rear end. McCoy thought that the mass would come right on up his throat and out his mouth so McCoy could lick on it.

And it was all so very, very good.

 

And it was also hurtful. McCoy had to go to bed for several days, and Kirk could get no clear explanation out of him about the nature of his ailment. All that McCoy said was that he was going to be in bed for an extended time in the immediate future. 

And Kirk let him get by with it. Because McCoy was McCoy, and he knew what he was doing.

No, he didn’t. He particularly didn’t know what he was messing with when he tampered with the Vulcan known as Mr. Spock. But nobody could’ve told McCoy that. Some things a person just had to learn the hard way, and Leonard McCoy was no exception.

 

“Have you healed up inside yet?” Spock asked in a soft voice so no one else could hear. No one was seated near them in the mess hall, but Spock still was very careful about not being overheard.

“Why?” McCoy asked with dread, but he also felt a little thrill of excitement go across his shoulders.

“Because I want to make you sore again,” Spock answered lowly, but with a voice that shook with emotion.

“Oh, hell,” McCoy muttered and felt his shoulders jerk with anticipation. That did not compete, though, with the spasms that coursed inside him, below his waistband, in his nether regions.

“I realize that you are probably not wishing another encounter with me.”

“No, no, no, that isn’t it,” McCoy muttered as he licked at his dry lips. How could he voice his ambivalence? How could he knowingly reject Spock’s advances while he was beginning to quiver with desire at the thought of being underneath the Vulcan again?

Of course, Spock decided that McCoy was considering only the pain and humiliation of a return match. “I will be more careful this time. More considerate.”

McCoy’s head shot up. “How? Did you whittle yourself down any?”

Spock looked confused.

“You got a ‘big’un’ hanging on you, Vulcan!” McCoy hissed. 

“I wish to lie with you,” Spock reiterated and sounded as quaint and staid as a New England spinster at an oyster shucking on Cape Cod Bay. “What will it take for you to comply?”

“You mean that I have a choice?” McCoy asked in amazement. “You just won’t see what you want and make a grab for it? Manhandle it until it knuckles under to your demands?”

Spock looked greatly pained. Good. He should.

“I was crude. I wish to apologize.”

“Well, now, that is a new leaf that you’ve turned over, haven’t you? What’s next? Are you going to be opening a new wing in a women’s shelter? Or maybe you’ll start spouting Beatnik poetry.”

“I do not understand this new leaf of which you speak. Or the new wing in a women’s shelter.”

“But Beatnik poetry you do?!”

“That was obviously a reference to something that is counterculture, something so innovative that it is shocking to the senses and to the equilibrium of the typical society.”

“You’ve got that much right,” McCoy muttered.

“So, how about it? Are you ready to submit to me again? If I am careful?”

McCoy couldn’t believe it. The Vulcan was actually nervous because he was so anxious. Did that mean that McCoy might actually have the upper hand in this relationship, or at least some power?

“You will have to be very tender. Make it seem like you are considerate of my needs and welfare, even if you don’t mean it.”

“I can do that.” Then Spock added, “With the stipulation that you act accordingly.”

“I believe that you used the right verb there. Act.”

“I would request the same involvement from you.”

McCoy still wasn’t convinced.

“You’re going to have to perform like you’re doing brain surgery, not wrestling steers at a rodeo.”

Spock looked like he was trying to take it all in, but having a terrible time doing so. McCoy could almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

After all, it was McCoy’s rear end that was going to be invaded. They both understood that Spock was going to have to be as accommodating as hell if he wanted access to a glorious form of masturbation.

McCoy decided to take some pity on him. After all, the Vulcan had trouble with idioms. “I know that you’ve probably never seen a rodeo. They wrestle steers to the ground using strong arm tactics. Don’t be that way with me. Be a little gentler.”

“I will do that,” Spock promised, happy now that he understood what McCoy was talking about.

“If we’re careful, we can do something that we will both enjoy,” McCoy suggested.

Spock looked more confident. “I do have lubricant. That should help with some of the problem.”

McCoy supposed that he should be grateful for that much.


	4. Hurting, But Not Minding The Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both know it's bad for them, but they cannot stay away from each other.

And so it began, an abrasive relationship that was not intended to be nurturing or mutually supportive. It was also not meant to be something that would be used to build toward a future, because it was not constructed of strong building blocks. The guys were in it for the rutting, and that’s all they got out of it. They stimulated each other and they banged each other, and then they went away sated and smelling of recent sex. But, secretly, neither one of them was satisfied with their time together in bed.

 

“Are you here again?” Spock asked as he stood aside so McCoy could enter his quarters.

“Pleasure seeing you again, too, MISTER Spock,” McCoy snarled as he pushed past Spock and sauntered into a room that was beginning to feel as familiar to him as his own. The knickknacks, that had once seemed so harsh and foreign to his eyes, were now accepted as part of Spock’s personality. Some of the artifacts were in very gaudy colors, but that only seemed to reflect the depth and intensity of the emotions which Spock tried to deny.

“I thought that we agreed that we would see each other only a couple of times a week,” Spock said with some annoyance as he made certain that the door closed properly.

“Hey, we ain’t married! I’ll be damned if I go by the middle-of-the-week and Saturday night schedule of two people who’ve forgotten why they got married in the first place. Besides, you agreed to that schedule; I didn’t.”

“Perhaps I do not wish to engage in coitus tonight.”

McCoy glared at him. “Are you saying that you won’t? Or that you can’t? Hell, I got pills for that. They might kill you, but you’ll die satisfying me.”

“That is hardly an ambition of mine,” Spock said with disdain as he walked past McCoy toward his desk.

“Come on, Spock, you like seeing my eyes go all smokey. I know that I sure as hell like seeing you getting all steamed up and your eyes blazing like your boiler’s gonna blow at any minute. It's kinda fun getting you in that state.”

“You are certainly being colorful this evening. Why not share that lurid interest of yours with some of the men watching stag films?”

McCoy frowned. “What in the hell would I want to watch stag films with some other losers and pretend I’m having the time of my life when I can come here and take part in a real life stag film?”

“I do not wish to participate in any such activities tonight.”

“What are you acting so high and mighty about?” McCoy wanted to know. “You know that you like doing what we do together as much as I do. Don’t act like you’ve suddenly gone frigid.” 

“I would appreciate it if you did not come to my quarters whenever the notion seemed appealing to you.” 

“Why?” McCoy asked with an annoying grin. “Afraid that someone will figure out that you can get hot once in awhile and gotta get rid of your load in some place convenient, like my asshole?”

“I would also appreciate it if you did not talk so vulgarly. It cheapens what is happening.”

McCoy frowned. “What the hell?! You think that what we’re doing ranks right up there with the greatest love stories of all time?! Let me remind you that in ‘Cinderella’ and in ‘Beauty And The Beast,’ the story always stops before they get to the hot and sweaty stuff. The tale always ends with ‘And they lived happily ever after.’”

Spock opened his mouth to say something, but McCoy ranted on. “Now just how in the hell do you suppose that they lived happily ever after? By playing tiddlywinks at twilight? By sitting up all night and knitting afghans?”

Spock drew breath to answer, but McCoy spoke first.

“Hell, no, they didn’t! And how do you suppose that they got a whole string of kiddies following after them? Because they got to the hot and sweaty stuff, that’s how. And that’s what’s going on with us. We ain’t having tea parties and attending cotillions when we meet. We are fucking each others’ brains out.”

Spock had tried several times to interrupt McCoy’s tirade, but now he bit his lips together to stop angry words from being said. He'd even blinked at the 'f' word.

“Smarten up, Commander. This isn’t great literature what’s going on under our bed sheets. Neither Shakespeare nor the guy who wrote about Anastasia are gonna be worried about being supplanted by our shoddy story. It's shameful.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Because you get my rocks off, Commander. You fly me to the moon on gossamer wings. Sometimes, I don't need you at all. Sometimes, I can jack off just thinking about it.”

“Please. Must you be so vulgar?”

McCoy caught Spock up against him. "Don't you play Ice Princess with me!"

McCoy rubbed their pelvic areas together until Spock’s eyes were fluttering. Only when Spock grabbed McCoy’s elbows to pull him closer did McCoy pause. Then he grinned.

“See, Commander?” he said softly. “You kinda like it when I do that to you. And, oh, what you do to me,” he said as he closed his eyes and trailed his lips up past Spock’s temple and through the fringe of his bangs to kiss his forehead. “Oh, Commander, what you do to me has never been written about in those pretty books of yours.”

Spock’s hands shot up to grab McCoy by the upper arms. He pulled McCoy into an open-mouthed kiss that left them both trailing wet slobbers down their cheeks and panting for more kisses.

“I have work to do,” Spock protested lamely as he tried to pull away.

“You bet you do, and I’m all ready to get serviced by you.”

“I meant that I must write the reports that Captain Kirk required of me.”

“Later,” McCoy murmured as he trailed a finger down one side of Spock’s mouth only to stop it on Spock’s chin. Then he leaned forward and chastely kissed Spock’s mouth. “I’m supposed to be meeting Jim soon, then I got to thinking about what you had to offer me. And you were only a few doors away. And I thought, what the hell, there’s time for a quickie. Or more,” he said with a husky voice. He went in for another kiss, but this one had a little more pressure to it.

“Those reports--” Spock started, trying to break his focus on the location of McCoy’s tongue on his body and failing miserably.

McCoy’s tongue had found the delicate curve on the inside of Spock’s ear. Spock gasped. He knew that the points of his ears were an erogenous zone to McCoy. Hell, they were to Spock, too, but only because McCoy liked to play with them so well. 

“We must not,” Spock protested weakly, but his full attention was on McCoy’s tongue in his ear.

“Oh, yeah, we must,” McCoy murmured and put a hitch in Spock’s breath. 

Before McCoy and his magic tongue had come into his life, Spock hadn’t thought much about his ears one way or another. They were just something that separated his looks from the Earthlings. There had been times when he had loved his ears and other times when he had hated his ears. Now he was so in awe of them because they seemed to be so important to McCoy.

Spock offered up his lips for kissing. He hated to cheat his ears, but his lips were aching for their turn at McCoy’s marvelous mouth action. And McCoy didn’t disappoint.

"Oh, yeah, you got a report to do." McCoy pressed himself against Spock again.

That's all it took.

“Doctor, Doctor….” Spock swept McCoy up into his arms and headed for his bed. His report and, yes, even Jim Kirk, be damned. He wanted this spicy Earthling in his bed, and he would have him now. And nothing, not even an apocalypse or his love for Jim Kirk was getting in his way of having McCoy under him again. 

He loved Jim Kirk more than himself, but this hunger, this hunger he felt for McCoy would not be appeased by anything sacred or majestic. And honor and integrity and dedication to duty all went out the window with the lusts that were running rampant in that room. He would wallow naked with McCoy and would satisfy the Earthling’s wanton needs as many times as McCoy demanded. 

Because, like it or not, they were Spock’s wanton needs, also.

 

McCoy could hear low voices as he awoke tangled in Spock’s rumpled bedding.

“Who was that?” he asked when Spock returned.

“Jim was looking for you.”

“And you told him….”

“That I had a report to do,” Spock muttered without looking at the temptation in his bed.

“Which wasn’t a lie. But didn’t answer Jim’s question.”

“I think that it is safe for you to return to your room. Jim has gone to the gym without you.”

“So I’m being dismissed,” he said as he got to his feet. “But you’ll want me back. Pressures build. Say, in about three days’ time? My quarters, so we don’t draw the attention of your suite-mate?”

“I believe that those arrangements would be logical.”

“You bet your sweet cheeks,” McCoy muttered as he pulled his tunic over his head and glared at Spock. He was ready to leave, then paused to grab Spock’s chin in his hand. “I’m leaving now, but I will be wanting more from you.”

“I have no doubt of that, Doctor,” Spock said, but McCoy couldn’t tell if Spock had spoken with substantiation or resignation.

“You drive me to distraction, Commander,” he whispered as his eyes flew over Spock's noncommittal face.

Spock didn’t answer, and finally McCoy released Spock’s chin and left.

 

“What are you doing here?” Spock demanded as McCoy stumbled inside Spock’s quarters. "I thought you were not coming to my quarters anymore."

McCoy was looking particularly haggard and unkempt as he shoved past Spock. “You gotta work on your greeting. Somebody might think that you weren’t happy to be seeing him.”

“Have you freshened up from your shift?” Spock wrinkled his nose. “You smell of smoke and alcohol.”

“Oh, am I offending your sensitivity AND your senses?! Naughty me! The ladies will be properly offended, too, I expect.” He pretended to look contrite. “Now I probably won’t get invited to the regatta next weekend, and I was so-o-o-o hoping to attend.”

“You are drunk.” Spock sniffed with disdain.

McCoy closed one eye in an exaggerated wink and poked a finger into Spock’s chest. “And you are so-o-o-o perceptive!” He blew a mouthful of bourbon laced air on Spock who turned away. “I was having a little party with some of the guys after work. We were relaxing. Getting the kinks out. Gotta problem with that?”

“You need to go back to your quarters and sleep off your method of relaxation,” Spock turned aside.

McCoy stopped him. “And I came to see my honey,” he announced happily.

“Your ‘honey’ is not here,” Spock said primly.

“Oh, yes, he is,” McCoy said, smiling. “I know, because I’m looking right at him. And he is so sweet.”

“You are mistaken. I am nobody’s ‘honey,’ least of all yours.”

McCoy frowned. “Why do you treat me so awful?” he wanted to know. 

Spock frowned back in thought. “What?”

“Here I came in, all romantic, and you’re doing everything but pushing me out the door. And that will probably come next, I expect.”

Spock pursed his lips. For a drunk, McCoy was perceptive.

“When I get romantic, you try to put me off,” McCoy continued. “Why do you do that when you know that I like your loving so much?”

“What we do is not loving, Doctor. We are performing mutual masturbation on each other.”

McCoy sputtered. “Yeah. You would see things that way, wouldn’t you? Well, you wanna do some of that mutual jacking off with each other now?” he asked with a lazy grin.

“I believe that you should sit down and rest a minute,” Spock said, steering him toward the sofa.

“Yeah, sit down,” McCoy agreed as he allowed himself to be steered. “As long as you sit down with me.”

Spock saw how pliable McCoy was acting, so complied with the request.

“Hey, now, this is real cozy,” McCoy said with a happy smile.

“I can stay here only a moment. I have work to do.”

McCoy’s hand rubbed up and down Spock’s arm. “You always have work to do. You don’t have any time for me.”

Spock wanted to argue that he spent more than enough time with McCoy, but he simply said, “I am here with you now.”

“You know, I left a perfectly good drinking binge to come over here to be with you. And do you appreciate it any?! No!”

“You did not need to do anything like that on my account.”

“I’m beginning to see that. But I was thinking of you, over here all by yourself. Hell, guy, you gotta get out more! Mix! Socialize!”

“I do not need that.”

“Oh, yes, you do! You’re a social pariah and don’t even realize it!” He shook his head to clear it.

“I see that you need to rest.”

“Don’t, neither!" He started to stand up. "I'll just leave!”

Spock pulled him back down. Hard telling what trouble McCoy would get into if he left. “I want to take care of you. Will you allow that?”

Amazement went over McCoy’s face. “You do?”

“Yes. Now, lie down and rest for awhile.”

“Lie down with me?” McCoy asked as he complied.

“I will be nearby,” he promised as he pulled a cover over McCoy who was soon asleep.

It was Spock’s turn to be amazed. He thought that he’d been outsmarting a drunk. Now it turned out that he really wanted to take care of McCoy.


	5. You Give Me Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their raw emotions cause them to behave erratically.

But just because they were spending quality time together in a very intimate fashion did not mean that they were lovey-dovey with each other. There was still a pissing contest between them for the simple reason that their relationship was not built on professed love, but on lust alone. Or at least on professed and acknowledged lust. 

That can be very trying to the soul of someone who is seeking a genuine relationship, but is having to settle for casual sex. They did not trust each other enough to expose whatever true feelings they felt, and that can frustrate the most patient person.

Their frustrations can come out in strange behavior, both to them and to their audience. And usually it was a puzzled Jim Kirk who got to be a witness to their antics. He was accustomed to their ritual arguments, but now the verbal contests seemed to have added some particularly sharp teeth to them. He didn’t know if they loved or hated each other. He almost wished for the good old days when his friends just baited each other into endless rants.

 

“Are you saying that I'm wrong?!” McCoy thundered as he reared back in his chair as his fork clattered onto his plate.

Half a dozen heads in the mess hall turned to see McCoy’s anger. There were a few looks of concern that the situation might get out of hand. Just a few short moments before, the seemingly lighthearted banter between Spock and McCoy had suddenly intensified. Even Jim Kirk looked amazed and worried about the sudden change. He’d been seeing a lot of that lately from these two and didn’t quite understand why.

“Well, am I?” McCoy insisted as he glared at Spock. “Am I wrong? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I believe that is precisely what I am saying,” Spock replied as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave McCoy a haughty look through his half-lowered eyelids. It was almost as if McCoy was acting like a child, a child who was doing double dog dares. And Spock had decided not to validate McCoy’s juvenile behavior by acknowledging it.

Every moment that Spock continued to act so reserved and withdrawn was another moment that McCoy felt as if he was losing control. “And you won’t even concede that you might ever be wrong in your logic?” he demanded.

“Are you suggesting that what you were using was logic, Doctor?” It wasn’t surprise or a sneer on Spock’s face. It was pure disdain.

That’s when the conversation turned deadly serious.

“You watch yourself, Vulcan, or someday you just might be prepared to throw away logic and even the book of Starfleet rules and regulations. On that day, nothing will be as important to you as pure feeling.”

“Pure feeling,” Spock jeered and almost sneered. “Only a hopeless romantic would put forth such an asinine supposition.”

“You don’t respect me at all, do you?” McCoy breathed as he felt the pinpricks of sharp tears in his eyes. “You in your haughty, judgmental tower of conceit. And you had the gall to accuse me of not respecting you. Well, buddy, I think that the feeling is mutual.”

“Now you are getting into personalities and have deviated from pure thought.”

“You know what you can do with your pure thought, don’t you?!” McCoy thundered and caused several heads to turn their way again.

“Gentlemen. Gentlemen,” Jim Kirk soothed as he looked from one to the other. “We’re supposed to be eating. Let’s just relax and enjoy a nice meal together. Okay?” He looked from one to the other. “Hmm?”

All would’ve gone well if Spock hadn’t given McCoy a smug look.

McCoy leaned forward and hissed, “Damn it, Vulcan! There’s no such thing as pure thought! At least it can’t be maintained for more than a few seconds! That’s because we’re human. And we humans think in everyday terms, not just abstract pure thought.”

“That is what makes you humans so erratic. Your thoughts bounce around everywhere and are in no way organized into any coherent patterns whatsoever.”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I’d rather be an erratic human being than an unresponsive robot!”

“That is more than obvious. I believe in that, your goal has been reached.”

“Of all the stuck-up, condescending--”

Kirk tried again. “Guys! Shall we behave like officers and gentlemen and try at least to give our time together the veneer of gentility? For the sake of my digestion, if nothing else?”

“Captain,” Spock replied arrogantly as he turned to Kirk. “We may combine apples and oranges, but they shall still remain apples and oranges. Even if we chop them up and stir them together, we have changed their integral identities. For now we have a fruit salad. A fruit salad that not only has lost the integrity of its individual members, but also has assumed a flavor that can be quite intolerable to the more discerning palette.” He sent a glare McCoy’s way. “Of course, the palettes of plebeians would not know the difference. They are simply grateful to be obtaining fruit no matter what its condition.”

McCoy opened his mouth to retaliate, but Kirk held up his hand. “What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Kirk asked, puzzled. He had the feeling that Earthlings had been insulted in general and McCoy in particular, but he didn’t quite know how.

“It means that oranges are an exotic fruit from foreign climes while apples will remain commonplace and can be found anywhere. Much as some people are.”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me an apple?!”

Kirk, ever the peacemaker, spoke up. “Actually, Bones, that’s not bad. Apples and oranges are equally tasty and should both be incorporated into a healthy diet--”

“What in the hell are you talking about?!” McCoy snapped, turning to Kirk. When he remembered that it was Kirk, his boss, whom he was addressing, he cooled. “Sorry,” he mumbled meekly.

“I don’t know what’s come over you, Bones.”

“Don’t you?!” he snapped, finding back his old anger. He nodded at Spock. “That! That's come over me. I don’t know how you can tolerate him.”

“He’s my friend, Bones. I make allowances.”

“Good thing!”

“I make allowances for you, too, and for the same reason.”

“I give up!” McCoy pushed back his chair, threw down his napkin, and stomped away without having eaten much.

“What’s his problem?” Kirk asked in amazement.

Spock merely frowned.

“Really, Spock, if there’s something bad going on between you two, you need to get it fixed.”

“Now you are beginning to talk about personalities the same as he does.”

“Spock. We’re in a social situation on this ship. When you get more than one person in any given area, you have formed a society. Man is a social animal, I don’t care if he’s an Earthling or a Vulcan. And however you might argue the point to the contrary, I know that you like the company of your fellow man. In fact, you crave it because of those pesky genes you got from your mother. We Earthlings are a gregarious lot, even when our blood gets mixed with alien blood.”

Spock conceded the point with the raising of one eyebrow. While Kirk could get as heated in a discussion as McCoy, the captain was not as easily rattled.

Kirk continued, “Whatever we may think about the companions that we now have found in our presence, we still must learn to get along with them. Or else that social structure will break down, and we will have chaos. Civilization will have ceased to exist. Spock, I must maintain a civilized state on this ship. I cannot have chaos. We have to work together for the common good.” Kirk felt as if he was lecturing to a kindergarten child about getting along with other children instead of talking to a humanitarian of Spock’s reputation.

“Am I getting through to you at all?” Kirk finally wanted to know. “You were baiting McCoy just now and not being very gentlemanly about it. Fun’s fun, but that wasn’t fun. That was just plain meanness.”

Spock looked sour. He had belittled himself in Kirk’s eyes, and McCoy had forced him to do it.

Spock could have told Kirk what McCoy’s problem was, but it was a little indelicate to discuss that sort of thing at the dinner table. Besides, it was a private matter between him and McCoy. And he would take care of it as soon as he confronted McCoy.

 

Spock barged into McCoy’s quarters.

McCoy set down his drink and glared at the stern-faced Vulcan glaring at him. 

“Using your override key, I see.”

“It is my prerogative as First Officer.”

“Looks like some things would be forbidden, even for the First Officer,” McCoy muttered as he contemplated his drink again.

“You should not be drinking so much.”

“And who will you tell?! The sterling First Officer of this esteemed vessel?!”

“Even officers such as yourself can serve time in the brig.”

“Get away from me with your threats,” McCoy muttered with downcast head.

Spock did not move.

McCoy looked up. “What the hell do you want now?” he demanded.

“You know what I want, what I must have. What you were tempting me with. Well, it worked. I want you. Now”

“Oh, hell, oh, hell, not that! Go away! I’m not in the mood!”

“That has never worked when I said something like that. You simply ground yourself against me until all I could see was a red haze with you in the center of it. Nothing else existed except you, and I was powerless to do anything else until I had had you once more.”

“Don’t tell me your tales of woe,” McCoy muttered, but he could feel his resolve draining out of him. If Spock left now, McCoy might have a chance to rise about the passion that he felt building inside him. But if Spock stayed, if he stayed, if….

Spock stepped closer so that he was standing over McCoy. “You know how you inflame me.”

“Go away,” McCoy begged weakly. “Don't torture me anymore!"

Spock grabbed McCoy by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. McCoy stood weakly weaving on legs that threatened not to hold him up.

“No, no….” he whimpered.

Spock’s lips were one grim line as Spock grabbed McCoy closer and pulled him into a brutal kiss.

"Leave me alone!" McCoy begged as he pulled away from those punishing lips that thrilled him to his very core. He knew that he was fighting himself as much as he was fighting Spock.

"I cannot do that. You must submit. I need what only you can give me."

“Oh, hell, what you do to me!” McCoy whimpered as he clutched at Spock’s shoulders to pull him closer. Spock had said the magic words. He needed McCoy, and only McCoy could satisfy him.

"What you do to me, Doctor, always drives me to your bed,” a fevered Spock muttered as he trailed kisses across McCoy’s face. It was like a trail of fire on McCoy’s flesh.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted!” McCoy blurted as passion swept through him.

“This feeling can only be relieved with actions. I must have you. Now.”

“Take me, then, damn you!” McCoy gasped as he surrendered to the Vulcan looming over him. “Take us both down to Hell, because that’s where my soul is anyway!”

Spock did not know if it was Hell where he was taking the both of them, but he was delivering them both into a lake of searing passion and molten hot kisses. And then he didn’t care about anything anymore. Not his career, not his principles, not his very soul. As long as he could consume the wild sweetness that he was tasting in McCoy’s arms, nothing else was important to him in the entire universe.

 

McCoy braced himself on his wrists as he hovered over Spock’s naked chest. His languid smile was filled with sated satisfaction. “That was mighty rough sex you just subjected me to.”

“That was extremely foolish foreplay, confronting me like that in the mess hall,” Spock countered. “Jim thought you were acting like a child. Which you were.”

“My ass was twitchy. It needed servicing.”

“I hope that I took care of that twitch for you.”

“Nicely.” McCoy pecked at Spock’s lips. “Bet you can’t do it again.”

Spock’s arm snaked McCoy into its hard grip, and Spock rolled McCoy tightly beneath him.

“Never dare a Vulcan!” Spock snarled.

McCoy grinned up at Spock in excited glee.

Spock stared hungrily down at McCoy whose grin seemed to taunt him. What was it about this Earthling that drew him? McCoy was illogical and emotional. Everything, indeed, that Spock was not. He must wipe that grin off McCoy's face.

Spock bit down hard on McCoy’s mouth, but McCoy answered in kind. He matched Spock’s brutal kisses with brutal ones of his own. In fact, he raised his head to meet the hard mouth head-on.

”More than kisses, more than kisses,” McCoy chanted. “I want more than kisses.”

”You want, you want,” Spock muttered. “Greedy child, out for yourself,” he gasped.

”A greedy child that has what you’re after,” McCoy breathed, drunk with renewed ardor. “And it’s all tucked away in a secret place between my legs, just waiting for you. If you dare to go after it.”

It was crazy to be so obsessed with this weak Earthling. It was illogical to want him so much.

Spock kept telling himself these things as he turned McCoy on his side and slid behind him so that he was pressed against McCoy’s backside.

Insanity, indeed.

Yet, as Spock pressed himself against McCoy’s back, slid his arms around McCoy’s chest, and heard McCoy sigh, Spock hungered for the fire and sweetness that he knew that he’d soon be finding in McCoy’s arms once more.

Spock spread his legs slightly so McCoy could feel all that Spock had to offer him.

McCoy gasped and shivered at what was pressing against that secret opening to his body. And all that he wanted was to have the Vulcan inside him again. Why did he need this haughty Vulcan so much? Why could he not walk away?

McCoy twisted, beginning a duel that would shatter the both of them as their lips found each other again.


	6. Wanna Bring It Down A Decibel, Or Maybe Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk wants to know what is going on.

Once again, Leonard McCoy had to take some sick time off. And once again, Kirk let him. But this time, Kirk was clearer-eyed about what was going on, especially after what happened in the mess hall.

 

“Are you certain that you should be going back to work so quickly?” Kirk wondered aloud as he and McCoy approached a table in mess hall. “You still look really pale. And you’re walking awfully slow and stiff-legged. I didn’t realize that you were so ill yet. You should’ve let me get your breakfast for you.”

“No, no, that’s okay, Jim,” McCoy said. “I’m just a little stiff. I can walk it out.”

At that moment, Spock, who was already sitting at the table, looked up and saw them. That was when McCoy chose to stumble a little and gasp. Spock looked concerned, jumped to his feet, and hurried toward them.

“Bones?!” Kirk had his hands full with a tray mounded over with food so he couldn’t help.

But Spock was suddenly there. “Doctor? May I be of service?” he asked, and his face looked as pale as McCoy’s. “Is there a problem?”

“N-nothing,” McCoy said weakly. “I guess that I’m not as strong as I thought that I was.”

“Here,” Spock said as he set down McCoy’s tray and pulled out a chair for him.

McCoy gingerly lowered himself onto the seat of the chair. At the last moment, he tensed his muscles and straightened. Spock seemed to tense along with him. Then McCoy relaxed.

“Are you alright, Doctor?”

McCoy nodded, unable to speak. It seemed to be taking all of his energy simply to be sitting in the chair.

“I don’t know, Bones. I don’t think that this working so soon is a good idea for you.”

“Oh, it’ll be okay. Once I get in the swing of things, it’ll pass. I generally concentrate on my job so thoroughly that I suppress any residual pain I might be feeling.” A small shudder escaped him.

Spock tensed and bit his lips together.

“Bones, I really believe that you should reconsider--”

“That’s alright,” McCoy said like a gallant martyr. “I’m just a little stiff. I can--”

“I know,” Kirk interrupted. “You can walk it out.”

“Right. Right, Jim. Thanks for understanding.”

Kirk was understanding more than McCoy realized that he was. Every time that McCoy sighed weakly or grimaced in pain, Spock seemed to die a thousand deaths. There had to be a good reason for that.

“Everyone, sit down and eat breakfast,” Kirk urged. Someone had to have strength to work.

McCoy struggled with his food as his hand visibly shook.

“May I cut your sausage and scrambled eggs for you, Doctor?”

“Oh, would you please, Spock?” McCoy asked feebly. “I can’t seem to handle a knife and fork this morning. Oh, and the toast. Could you butter that for me, too, and cut in four wedges?”

Spock dove to comply. "Just the way you like it? Certainly."

Kirk rolled his eyes, unseen, at the farce going on in front of him. Oh, please, you’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, McCoy? Cut Spock some slack. I don’t know exactly what he did to you, but he’s paying his debt by doing everything except licking off the soles of your shoes. And the way that you’re both acting, that will be coming next.

“Oh, dear,” McCoy moaned.

Spock paled. “What is it, Doctor?”

“I have all of those tedious experiments that I need to be running today. You know, all of the routine blood tests for all of the crew. But I was curious if the results would be the same if I also run them a second time. It’ll take hours. But I don’t know if I can stand up for that long….” McCoy allowed his voice to trail off.

“Think nothing of your tests, Doctor. I will be glad to run them for you.”

Gratefulness crossed McCoy’s humble face. “You will? Gee, Mr. Spock, that would be awfully nice of you.”

If this kept up, Kirk would lose his appetite for certain. And that would be a personal disaster for Kirk.

“I see that your orange juice glass is empty, Doctor. May I get more for you?”

“That would be awfully sweet of you,” McCoy said with a tired shudder. “I’ll be fine, though.”

You bet you will be, Kirk thought, or you’ll have more problems than you have now by the time I get through with you.

It was all a little unnerving, what with Spock being so solicitous with McCoy and what with McCoy acting as if he was at Death's door. Kirk also noticed a lack of bickering between them, which was the strangest reaction, or lack of it, that arose. Kirk assumed that Spock knew more about McCoy’s mysterious medical problem and was somehow responsible for it.

Sometimes, when one was working with Leonard McCoy, it was best to accept his explanation and just go on. It must be a humdinger, though. Kirk waited until he could speak to McCoy alone.

 

“We haven’t had a chance to do this in a long time, Bones,” Kirk said as he lounged in his chair in his quarters. “Just you, me, a couple of expensive cigars, and a bottle of something good to drink. Yes, sir, this is the life.”

“It sure is,” McCoy agreed as he sat back in the other easy chair. He held a drink in his left hand while he drew smoke into his lungs. Then he blew out a couple of smoke rings and smiled proudly.

“You do that very well, Doctor.”

“Why, thank you, Captain. It’s a right of passage for any Southern boy worth his salt to be able to hold his liquor and to light up a delicious smoke without turning his stomach upside down.”

Kirk chuckled. “For an Iowa farm boy, too, Bones. But neither happened on the first try, as I recall.”

McCoy chuckled back. “If it would’ve been easy, then anybody could’ve done it. That’s why it was a rite of passage. At least we didn’t have to have our foreskin removed with a sharp knife like some of the primitive Earth tribes used to do to their preteen boys.” 

Kirk grimaced and made a moue with his mouth. “That had to have smarted some.”

“I would’ve pissed myself, then puked.” He grinned. “And that would’ve been for starters.”

“Probably neither of us wouldn’t have passed the manhood test.”

“That’s for damn sure,” McCoy agreed. He’d been reluctant to accept Kirk’s invitation for a bull session between just the two of them. But now he was glad that he had. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. It felt good just for the two of them of them to be together again, without the presence of a certain Vulcan who would remain nameless. 

Because McCoy didn’t want to be thinking about Spock and the sexual obsession that they had with each other. He wanted a chrysalis to have formed over that part of his life with Spock sealed safely inside and away from him.

He knew that solution sounded very tempting. But he also knew that he would probably be the one to break that chrysalis open and release Spock and all of the mixed emotions that he brought along with him.

“You’re pretty deep in thought there, Bones.”

“Sorry. Guess my mind drifted.”

“Anything that you wanna share? I’ll always listen, you know.”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks, anyway.” He took a drink from his glass.

“You’re just happy that you didn’t wind up being one of those witch doctors among a primitive tribe that had to operate on those preteen boys with a stone knife. Just think of all the puke and piss you missed out on.”

McCoy laughed into his glass. “There are some perks to serving on a Starship.”

“You mean, besides all the adventure and space exploring.”

“I always could branch out and specialize. I’m sure that some of the guys on the Enterprise still have their foreskins. All I’d need is a stone knife.”

“Ouch!”

“You were the one who brought up the subject.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the subject that I wanted to bring up.”

“Oh?” McCoy asked, pleasantly. “What is your subject then?”

“Wanna bring it down a decibel, or maybe ten?” Kirk inquired.

McCoy turned with a lazy grin. “Well, now, boss man. Tell me what you’re talking about, and maybe I can accommodate you.”

“You and Spock.”

“Oh.” McCoy’s smile vanished as he turned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You see, that was my dilemma,” Kirk said as he gave McCoy a thoughtful look.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kirk grabbed his elbows as he proceeded to explain himself. “I had a question that needed to be answered, and I could’ve gone two ways with my inquiry. I could’ve asked Spock, and then spent ten minutes explaining my idiom. Then, when he finally understood what I was asking, I would’ve put him in an ethical conundrum. He couldn’t lie to me, but he couldn’t be disrespectful to me, either, by not answering. While you, you would understand my idiom right off. No problems there. But you’d have no qualms about lying straight to my face, either.” He gave McCoy a hard look. “Which you just did.”

No use being coy, McCoy decided. Kirk knew something was going on between him and Spock. “I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know.” His eyes shot quickly at Kirk, then that quickly they looked away again. “Or suspect.”

“Perhaps I just want verification.”

“What does your gut instinct tell you?”

“That you two are shagging each other with a fair amount of regularity.”

No use in trying to deny facts, either, McCoy realized. He decided to try a different tactic. “Just where in regulations does it say that the captain of a Starship has any jurisdiction over that sort of activity?”

Kirk managed a grin. “It doesn’t. That’s another thing that’s different about you and Spock. He wouldn’t have had to have asked.”

“You got that much right,” McCoy muttered. “He’s got a rule book instead of a heart.”

“See? That’s my whole problem with this supposed relationship between you two.”

This discussion was painful for McCoy, but he was welcoming the pain. He wanted to feel more pain. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so degraded or sneaky. “Enlighten me,” he invited.

“I wouldn’t mind if you two were in a relationship. In fact, I’d welcome it.” 

“You aren’t going to read the riot act to us?”

“Why should I? You’re my two best friends. I want what’s best for you two. If you two had found happiness together, I’d be celebrating right along with you.”

“I’ll be damned. I thought you’d go all moralistic on us. I thought that you’d want us to be more upstanding, because we’re officers and all.”

“Well, that would be nice. But even Starfleet realizes that people are serving on this ship, not saints. No, that isn’t my problem.”

“Then what is?” McCoy didn’t quite meet Kirk’s eyes because he had a feeling about what Kirk was going to say. If Kirk knew about the relationship, he’d probably figured out that something wasn’t quite right about it. Kirk was a pretty perceptive guy, even if he acted like his mind was only on outmaneuvering an enemy or maneuvering some woman into bed.

“My problem is you guys. You don’t act like you’re in love. You’re not feeling any joy.”

McCoy turned aside. “Maybe we’re just in it for the rutting. You know, the way you are. Love ’em and leave ’em Kirk. Ram, bam, thank you, ma’am. Nice doing business with you. Have a good rest of your day now, you hear?”

“Bones. That was unkind.”

McCoy grimaced.

“See? That’s another reason I know that something is wrong. You’ve never said something that unkind to me before. You wouldn’t even be thinking it. This isn’t like you, Bones. You get exasperated with me for my skirt-chasing ways or my irreverence or even my not being careful enough with my health and my life. But now this, this is different. You’ve changed. You’re just plain bitter.”

“Maybe I’ve got a good reason!”

“My theory, exactly,” Kirk said softly.

McCoy bit his lips together, but his fiery eyes were speaking what he couldn’t allow himself to say.

“And it deals with Spock.”

“So why did you ask if you already know?!” McCoy snapped.

“Because I had to know. For certain. I feel responsible because I pushed you two to be better friends."

"You didn't push us into this, so stop blaming yourself."

"Bones,” Kirk said softly. “What’s wrong?”

McCoy looked down in disgust. “It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

“I know that much. I can tell you’re hurting.”

“Yeah!”

“If it’s bad, Bones, you have to walk away.”

“I… can’t!”

“Come on, Bones. Anybody can walk away from a bad relationship. I know it’ll take strength, I know it’ll hurt, but--”

“I. Can’t. Give. Him. Up.”

“Bones. Maybe you’ll have to.”

McCoy squeezed his eyes shut as he bent his head. “Oh, hell,” he breathed.

Kirk touched McCoy’s elbow. “It’s for your own good. And his.”

McCoy threw his head back and breathed deeply through his mouth. Tears sparkled in his eyes.

"You really care for him, don't you?"

McCoy bit his lips together.

"And that wasn't supposed to happen, was it?"

McCoy breathed deeply.

"Because that's not what this relationship is supposed to be about. Right?"

McCoy reared back, but still did not answer. Why bother, when everything Kirk said was the truth?

“I know you care for him. I can see that you do. And he cares for you."

McCoy pursed his lips and frowned. "He's Vulcan. He's hardwired differently about feelings."

"Bones, if that was true, you couldn't have had him practically standing on his head to do things for you in mess hall the other morning. You're messing with him because you can. And he's getting hurt by it. And I know that you don’t want him to be hurt,” Kirk said softly. "Not really."

“No,” McCoy whispered.

“Will he be hurt more if you two break up, or if you continue your relationship?”

“I don’t know.” McCoy smirked. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I hope that you find some answers, Bones. For both of you.”

McCoy could only nod.


	7. I'm A Doctor, Not A Janitor.  But Right Now, A Janitor Is What We Need.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intestinal disorder has sickbay backed up, but the Enterprise crew isn't so lucky.

Jim Kirk didn’t often get frustrated with Leonard McCoy for doing his duty, but he was frustrated with him now. The man was so dizzy with fatigue that his eyes looked glassy, but still he worked on like an automaton. The chaos that was sickbay seemed like a nightmare behind McCoy as he and his nurses waded through people, filth, and squalor.

“McCoy, you’ve got to take a rest!” Kirk pleaded at McCoy’s elbow.

McCoy turned, his face a picture of extreme fatigue. “Now, how in the hell am I gonna do that, Captain?! There’s bodies piling up everywhere, and more are coming in every minute! Sickbay is a cesspool! Literally! People are puking up their heels, and that’s the nicest end of where it’s coming from! I’ll need to run a hose in here just to swab out the filth and contaminants! A tubercular ward would be healthier than this place. Typhoid Mary would feel right at home in here! If we’re thinking of flushing this place out, we’re gonna leave a floating mass of excrement and puke miles wide in our wake. I pity the ship that tries to follow in our path for awhile.”

“What caused all this vomiting and diarrhea, anyway?” Kirk demanded, looking around at the people moaning and being sick and writhing on the floor. “It looks like some sort of scene out of the Old Testament or the Fall of Rome.”

“You mean if amoeba had been what had attacked Rome and not pagans out of the North? Don’t forget that the lassitude of the Romans themselves had a lot to do with the downfall of that noble empire,” McCoy snapped back with a snarl. He was not so tired or focused on the problems around him that he would let the opportunity for an argument to get away from him.

Kirk held up his hands. “Easy. Easy. I’m on your side, remember? I’m just trying to figure out what in the hell struck everyone so hard. I’m trying to run a ship here, not a flying hospital. I need a healthy crew, not one that is in its first stages of dying.”

“I doubt if anybody will die from this. They’ll just feel like it, though, for awhile. As long as this mysterious ailment doesn’t kill people, they’ll get over it. Time will tell how it’ll all work out.”

”So you’re saying that we’re conducting one big medical experiment here?”

”Afraid so. We didn’t plan on conducting one, but we’re in the midst of it now.”

“What struck us, anyway? Do you have any idea?” Kirk asked, as he looked around at the chaos again.

“My guess is that load of food we took on board at our last supply stop. It must've had more in it than fresh produce. Just because fruit looks pretty, doesn’t mean that it’s eatable. And hard telling what else had been growing in the dirt on that planet besides vegetables.”

“Eew!” Kirk exclaimed as he wrinkled his nose and twisted his face into a grimace. He looked like he was suddenly smelling something worse than the stench that was already present in sickbay. “Kinda makes me glad that I didn’t eat all those fresh fruits and fresh vegetables.” He gave McCoy a lazy grin. “It even makes a good argument for my food regimen.”

“Don’t go patting yourself on the back just yet. For starters, I doubt if you can even reach back there with all of the excess girth you’d have to encounter. For another, we’ll be burying you while we’re still munching merrily along on our fruits and vegetables. Your gluttony is gonna put you six feet under someday. That’s a sure thing. Mark my words.”

”Still, I’m happy that I didn’t partake of any fresh stuff this time. Everyone looks pretty miserable.”

”The fact that you didn’t eat anything fresh is one reason why I can isolate the cause. But that’s no reason to put a blanket refusal on raw produce. Most fresh foodstuffs don’t generally have the contaminants on them that we’ve obviously encountered.” 

“Wait a minute. You’ve been eating the fresh food as much as anyone. Why haven’t you come down with an intestinal uproar?”

“I’m too damned busy to get sick!” McCoy snapped back. He threw out his arm. “That’s what’s wrong with these people! They’ve given in to the suggestion!”

“Bones. I hardly think that being well is a case of mind over matter. You as a medical person should know that much.”

”Don’t you be going all logical on me,” McCoy muttered in a low voice as he leaned toward Kirk. “I hear enough of that garbage from a certain Vulcan who roams these halls like an Avenging Angel from the Highest Hierarchy!”

“You mean Spock?”

“Who else?!” McCoy snapped. Why was Kirk suddenly being dense? Of course he was talking about Spock!

”That still isn’t getting this problem solved, Bones. We’ve gotta do something to halt this mess. We’ve got to get the Enterprise back to doing what she’s supposed to be doing, like the proud lady that she is.”

”Well, anytime you’ve got a solution, Jim, I’m all ears. Right now, its kinda like fighting a cold: treat the symptoms and wait for the illness to run its course. We’re keeping people hydrated and as comfortable as much as we’re able. It’s more of a nursing situation, instead of a doctoring one. The diagnosis has been made, and the nurses are doing the work. I’m kinda supervising.”

”Precisely why I say that you can take a break now.”

Chapel hurried up. “Dr. McCoy, I need to talk with you.”

“Unless you have a cure for this malady or a high power hose, Chapel, I suggest that you stay with your nursing duties.”

“But there’s a new phenomenon.”

“Don’t tell me that it’s running out of their ears now!”

“No. It’s stopped running altogether.”

McCoy looked puzzled. “Eh?”

“People are getting better. Just like that.”

McCoy and Kirk looked around. A few people were pulling themselves to their feet and moving around slowly in their weakness. But they were moving. And not being sick.

“It’s a miracle, Doctor.”

“It’s run its course, no miracle in that,” McCoy muttered as he moved among his patients. He turned to Chapel. “If they feel well enough, have them go to their quarters, shower, eat lightly, drink lots of liquid, and rest.” He glanced at Kirk. “Maybe then we can get them on their feet for their next shift so that this spacecraft can go back to being a starship and stop being a flying hospital or a lab. Right, Captain?”

“I would appreciate that, Doctor.”

“I figured that you would, Captain.”

“But that gets us back to our original dilemma. You need to go rest yourself. You’re well into your third straight shift.”

McCoy straightened as he closed his eyes and put a hand on his aching back. “In a minute. I just gotta check that everything really is getting back to normal and that we don’t have any really bad cases lingering.”

“Now, Doctor!”

McCoy glared. “I said in a minute, Captain. You’re getting as pushy as your First Officer.”

”Don’t even begin to make that comparison, Doctor. I’m the guy who trained him in that department.”

”No way. He came by that naturally. He didn’t get that from Starfleet Academy or you. That’s piss-ant Vulcan, through and through.”

At that moment the man himself appeared in the doorway. “So this is where everyone is,” Spock noted when he saw McCoy and Kirk. Then he took a look at all of the moaning sick people lying around. Spock frowned as he stepped inside sickbay. “I heard it was bad, but I had no idea.”

“You might want to stay out of here, unless you’re already sick,” McCoy muttered. “Of course, the ill people are beginning to recover, so the body must build its own immunity.” He frowned at Spock. “How come you haven’t come down with the runaway trots and vomiting? You eat mainly fruits and vegetables. I’d think that you’d get hit before anyone.”

”Perhaps the Vulcan digestive system is not as fragile as that of the Earthlings.”

”Hmm, I know that was an insult, even if it was hidden. Back to this illness. I think that it’s from fresh foodstuffs, but it could also be passed from a sick person to a healthy one. Hell, at this stage, it could be airborne.” He frowned. “Then it really would be ‘shit on the wing,’” McCoy said with a wry look on his face.

“Captain Kirk, is Dr. McCoy alright?”

“He’s tired, Spock, but he won’t give in. He might be ill as well. Something has to account for a stupid joke like that.”

“Hey! Do I make fun of your jokes?!” McCoy protested.

“Hmm, Captain. He sounds serious.”

”I am serious!” McCoy snapped as his eyes blazed. “What gave you the idea that I wasn’t serious?! When was it that you have ever seen me when I wasn't serious as hell?!”

”Perhaps you should rest, Doctor,” Spock said in his best soothing voice.

Wrong thing to say to McCoy and wrong voice to use. McCoy could see conspiracy theory written all over the Vulcan. “You’re just like Kirk, trying to get rid of me!”

”It’s for your own good, Bones,” Kirk chimed in.

"Don't you think that I'm adult enough to know when I'm exhausted?!" McCoy bellowed. "You're not dealing with any damn martyr here! I'm bright enough to come in out of the rain or to go to bed when I need to!"

"A martyr is just exactly who I am dealing with, Bones! I could give you a direct order, Doctor," Kirk said, trying to calm himself and to sound forceful. "But I don't want to do that. You're exhausted and not showing good judgement."

"Who's the doctor here?!" McCoy growled, unimpressed with Kirk's arguments. “I get to say who is physically fit to serve!” He glared at Kirk. “Not the Captain!” Then McCoy glared at Spock. “Not the piss-ant First Officer, either! Got it?! The both of you?!”

Spock blinked and looked thoughtful.

"Look. Bones," Kirk said, trying to sound reasonable. "Don't make me pull rank on you. That's always a chickenshit action taken by officers, especially when they're friends--"

"Then don't do it!" McCoy snapped.

Spock had listened to the exchange and now saw his two friends glaring at each other.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen? I came to see what I could do with the crisis in sickbay, but there seems to be a more immediate situation regarding you two.”

“The health problem has eased,” Kirk explained, happy for the distraction and the opportunity to ease the tension between him and McCoy. “But now the doctor is being obstinate about a well earned and a much needed rest. He won't take it.” Kirk glared at the obstinate doctor who stood with crossed arms, glaring at everyone: Kirk, Spock, Chapel, and anyone else in sickbay who felt healthy enough or interested enough or foolhardy enough to pay them any attention.

“Captain, it has been my experience that sometimes talking will not alleviate the situation when it comes to Dr. McCoy,” Spock said reasonably.

“You’re telling me,” Kirk muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“You must remember that talking is based on logic and that the steps in systematic logic sometimes tend to elude Dr. McCoy.”

“Hey, now wait a minute!” McCoy protested as he uncrossed his arms. “I’m as logical as the next guy!”

“He also is not troubled with the precept of truth, as you can plainly tell, Captain.”

“Hey! I’m still here!” McCoy really protested. “And you’re calling me a liar! That’s the basis for a duel to any true gentleman from the Southland!”

Spock looked at McCoy haughtily. “I will be most happy to accommodate you, Doctor. I believe that as the one challenged that I have the right to pick the time and place of the duel. I also can make the choice of weapons used.”

”This isn’t helping matters any, Spock.”

”Honor is at stake here, Captain. Your code, not mine. It is something that originated on Earth, not on Vulcan, at least not in the form in which Dr. McCoy has reference. I would hardly be a gentleman, if I am not prepared to honor Dr. McCoy’s challenge.”

”I am residing in Hell,” Kirk muttered.

”Welcome to my world,” McCoy muttered back.

”The shower room at the gym,” Spock said.

”Huh?” McCoy asked.

”What about the shower room at the gym?” Kirk wanted to know.

”The place for the duel. The weapons will be Seltzer bottles.”

A same vision of the eminent action crossed the minds of any Earthling listener: The Three Stooges and their slapstick routines.

”The Vulcan’s gone bat crap crazy!” McCoy muttered.

”Why would you say something like that, Mr. Spock? That kind of duel would be a farce.”

”Captain, I have found that it sometimes helps to bring a note of levity into a discussion. It helps to relieve tensions.”

Kirk frowned. ”You? Levity? What’s that even like?”

”Sometimes I do find you Earthlings to be most amusing, Captain. I simply do not always let you know about it.”

”Really? Give me a for instance,” Kirk challenged.

”Your problem of getting Dr. McCoy to obey you about getting rest. It is really quite simple.”

”Really? Enlighten me, Mr. Spock.”

”You do this.” Spock scooped a stunned McCoy up into his arms.

”Hey!” McCoy protested as he struggled against Spock's superior strength. “What the hell?! Put me down, you big green ape! Immediately!"

”And once you have him secured, you simply walk out of sickbay with him. Like this.”

"Hey!" McCoy protested loudly, but it did him no good as Spock carried him out the door.

”Simple and effective,” Kirk muttered.

”I’d never thought of that technique,” Chapel remarked. "I wish I was as strong as Spock. That maneuver would come in handy with that obstinate doctor on any number of occasions."

“The problem, I believe, would occur when you set him down, Christine,” Kirk said with a merry grin.

Chapel grimaced. “You are so right, Captain. I don't know if I'd be fast enough to get out of his reach.”

 

Spock laid his squirming burden on McCoy’s bed.

”I suppose now you’re gonna fuck me,” the fuming doctor blurted as he glared up.

The vulgarity shocked Spock. “I brought you here to rest. I am not that heathen.”

”Small wonder,” McCoy muttered, subdued. He knew he’d crossed some line, but he was not about to apologize. "Well, I suppose since you've made your delivery, you can leave." He wouldn't quite look at Spock's face. When Spock made no reply, McCoy rolled on his side away from him.

Spock stared at McCoy’s back, but McCoy said nothing else.

There was nothing for Spock to do but to leave.

McCoy heard the door to his quarters open and close. He scrunched around on the bed to get comfortable and was soon asleep. Kirk had been right. McCoy was exhausted.

But Spock had not left. He waited until he thought that McCoy was indeed asleep. Then he approached the bed and looked down. He studied the sleeping medical man for a long time. McCoy had lost his belligerency and spite. Now he simply looked exhausted and almost lost. Spock longed to lie down with him and hold McCoy in his arms until McCoy looked contented and rested again. But Spock knew that he couldn't do that. They did not have that kind of relationship, the kind that allowed for simple reassurance and kindness. But Spock ached for it to be otherwise.

Finally, he reached down and gently wiped hair off McCoy’s forehead.

”How could you even think that of me? I am not that unfeeling. And I did not realize until now that you were.”

Then he turned and quietly left.


	8. Coitus Without Cuddles Hurts The Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys burn with unrequited love while engaging in demeaning sex.

McCoy slept the clock around before he felt like his old self again. He didn’t come down with the rambling shits, as he had come to call it in his mind. But it was a wonder indeed that he hadn’t.

Spock had awakened him twice and had him eat something and use the bathroom. The last time, Spock even insisted on McCoy showering, although all he’d wanted was to curl up back in bed. He did feel better after the shower, then found fresh linens on the bed and hot food awaiting him. After eating, he decided that he was human again. And the sleep he got then was truly refreshing. He’d slept so hard at first that the sleeping itself had worn him out. But now he was on the mend.

Spock waited on him, and they spoke in monosyllables. McCoy was all talked out, and Spock could honor that. McCoy ate what Spock provided for him and followed Spock’s instructions with nonverbal grunts. Spock honored McCoy’s form of communication, also. Spock's main interest was in caring for McCoy, not engaging him in debate or intercourse. Both of which McCoy would've been grateful for if he'd thought about it.

 

Then, when McCoy was feeling much better and had worked his regular shifts for two days, he found Spock waiting for him in his quarters. Not a word passed between them as McCoy disrobed and assumed the position that Spock preferred: McCoy’s face in the pillow and his rump exposed and waiting.

Spock wasted no time in utilizing the offering raised before him. It was as endearing and as sweet as if two robots were going at it. And about as satisfying.

 

Spock pulled out of McCoy’s anus and promptly rolled away on the other side of the narrow bed. Outside of rapid panting and sharp intakes of breaths, urgent grunting and low growling, languid moans and little yips, it had been a silent affair that had transpired between them that night. No words had been spoken, no gentle urging, no encouragements, no endearments, no voicing of pleasure that the one was giving to and receiving from the other.

And now this: the silent withdrawal. Apparently, their separating was meant to be done as quietly as possible, also. And, outside of a small, moist ‘smack’ as Spock’s penis’ popped out of McCoy’s body, everything was. Spock barely made a sound as he moved away.

McCoy lay on his side staring across the shadowy room without seeing anything. His rectum stung from being recently invaded, but not as much as his eyes were stinging with tears that he refused to let fall. And neither rectum nor eyes were hurting as much as his aching heart. That’s because his heart was sick with what McCoy had just experienced. 

That had been rutting. No two ways about it, just rutting. Lower animals treated their love partners better than that. The lower animals acted as if they were aware of each other, but not these two guys in this narrow bed on this night.

There was nothing about what they had performed that had even come close to lovemaking. There wasn’t even a pretense of anything more than culturally acceptable mutual masturbation. Of course, that’s all that they had been doing since they’d started this interlude. As McCoy was fond of saying in the vernacular, they were getting their rocks off. But this was the first time that it had seemed so demeaning and impersonal.

Maybe it was because McCoy was getting no pleasure from it anymore. The mindless animal act had pleased him before, but not now. Jim Kirk had planted seeds of doubt in him. Nothing is ever good when someone starts analyzing it and wants explanations for actions that had become routine. That destroys whatever illusions that might’ve been hiding the stark truth from both participants. McCoy wondered idly if Jim Kirk had been talking to Spock and had disenchanted him, also.

McCoy became aware of a steady vibration coming from Spock’s body and an odd grunting noise. It sounded like Spock was trying to start an old fashioned lawnmower with a cord pull. Finally, that sound and the motion stopped, too. All was silent in the bed containing two men pretending not to be aware of each other. There was no thought of sleep, either, even though they both needed to be rested for their work shift tomorrow.

A few minutes later Spock slipped as easily out of McCoy’s bed as he could, but McCoy still felt the slight shaking. Must be gonna take a shower, McCoy decided. Probably smelling like a male hog in heat. McCoy was surprised a moment later when he heard the door to his quarters slide open, then close just as quickly.

What the hell?!

McCoy raised up and looked over his shoulder. Gone. And he was alone. Alone in a bed where he’d recently had sex, but had gotten no pleasure from it. He glanced at where Spock had recently lain. The sheets were mussed and wrinkled. At least he was human enough to leave a print where his body had been. Sometimes, McCoy wondered if there was anything human about Spock. There were times that he even wondered if the Vulcan was human enough to project a shadow.

But McCoy was human, and he was human enough to miss the mysterious enigma who was bedding him. He’d wanted some tenderness after their primitive mating, some sign that there was something civilized about what they had done. But he’d gotten nothing, nothing!

When they'd first started their trysting, McCoy hadn't needed cuddling after coitus. But now he was acutely missing it. And what about Spock? Surely he was needing something. When they'd started, McCoy hadn't wasted a thought about Spock and what he was getting out of all of this. He'd just been the means for McCoy to get some enjoyment and some tension relief.

On impulse, McCoy rolled over and fit himself across Spock’s body print. It was still warm, just like Spock's body would be if McCoy was pressed against it right now. McCoy moaned. Why hold it in? There was no one here to hear him, least of all Spock. There was no one to know how much he loved the person who had made this print, least of all the person who had made it. 

McCoy undulated across the warmth. Now he knew what he’d wanted when Spock rolled away, then left. He’d wanted Spock to hold and cuddle him. Cuddle! Hold him in his arms and kiss him gently and thank him for giving him the use of his body. Kiss him and reassure him that he loved him as much as he’d desired him.

As if Spock would ever do anything like that!

But that was what McCoy yearned for. Some post-coital snuggling and embracing. And McCoy was feeling cheated because he hadn’t received a word, a touch, a kiss, a sign, a smile. There had been nothing, nothing.

For the one whom McCoy loved did not want to know about love or recognize it. That was because love was not something that Spock apparently seemed to value. Why then would he want to know that McCoy loved him? It would just be another complication that Spock would not want to deal with.

McCoy ran his hand up and felt a damp place on the sheet. He looked. Sperm. Spock’s sperm. McCoy frowned as he remembered the bed vibrating and Spock’s odd grunting after rolling away from McCoy. He frowned. Spock had lain over here and jacked off?!

Then McCoy shoved his hand under himself to the spot where his legs came together. To make it more specific, to that spot where he defecated on a daily basis. To lovers of forbidden sexual practices, his glory hole. He wanted to know the condition of that spot.

The dampness of body-warmed lube was seeping out of him. That was normal after anal sex in which the partner is considerate enough to use lubrication for easy penetration. Both participants thus enjoy the friction of flesh sliding effortlessly over the flesh of their lover. That’s where a lover ejaculated into the body of his lover to complete an act as old as Time itself.

But no stream of sperm wept slowly out of McCoy’s rectum. That wasn’t normal.

That meant only one thing. Spock had pulled out of him before he’d ejaculated. Why had he denied himself that pleasure, McCoy wondered? Why hadn’t Spock completed the act as old as Time itself inside McCoy’s body?

 

The more that McCoy thought that they should be acknowledging a mutual intimacy, the more that he wanted to experience more than the relief of sexual tension when they made love. That’s why he waited patiently until the next time that he had relations with Spock. It was not a matter of if, but when. They were both addicted to the physical wrestling that they knew would end with Spock ‘taking’ McCoy forcefully and resolutely. McCoy had a commodity that Spock desired, so he knew that Spock would return to him at some time.

McCoy had always submitted willingly to the wild abandon of their thrashing about. He had done his share of grappling, too. He wouldn’t try to deny that fact. But now he wanted a loving experience. And he was determined that he would have it.

Therefore, he lay quietly on his belly after Spock had placed him in that position. He hummed as Spock pulled his legs apart and applied lube to his anal area after greasing himself up. McCoy had never realized how stimulating it was to have Spock’s long digits fingering that sensitive area. And then when Spock gently pulled that wrinkled area apart with two fingers, McCoy gasped at the delicacy and intimacy from that simple handling.

But that compared little to when Spock’s rigid member began slicing into him. McCoy tried to relax so that he could feel every inch, every half-inch that Spock sank into his flesh. McCoy tried to feel how Spock’s engorged member expanded his rectal walls and made all of his skin cells aware of the heated mass that was ramming its way past them.

At one point, McCoy contracted his anal muscles as Spock was driving through them with a mighty thrust. The resulting squeezing tore at both of them. Spock audibly gasped and tried to stop his thrust, but it was automatic. It was as difficult as a lady trying to cut off her wee once she is committed to the gushing of the aromatic waters. Some things can’t be stopped. So it is with with penile thrust and ladies’ wee.

“Doctor. You must not do that,” Spock cautioned. “You will injure yourself.”

What do you care, McCoy wanted to know, but he decided not to make an issue of it. So he relaxed. At least the bastard thought that much of him. On second thought, the Vulcan probably didn’t want to mess up his playground.

But Spock couldn’t stop McCoy from trying to enjoy this whole experience in a loving way. McCoy tried to imagine what it would be like if they loved each other and were affirming that love by sharing an intimate moment together. How would it feel to be in love with Spock and for Spock to return those tender feelings? Not only to feel that way about each other, but to be willing to express it freely and proudly? The enormity of that prospect overwhelmed him so much that when Spock made his next thrust, McCoy shivered, actually shivered, from the movement and (hallelujah!) from the intimacy he was feeling between them.

Heat and warmth, cherishing and treasuring burst throughout McCoy’s entire system. It started in his rectum and flowed outward and outward in ever pulsating waves. There was a blossoming of intense feeling spreading outward and outward and outward. And then there was a beckoning and a yearning for Spock to come in, come in, come in. Oh, come in, you blessed man, and make me feel complete! And beloved!

McCoy had never felt that way before with Spock. Sure, he had on occasion with Jocelyn and with several other forgotten loves from his youth, but never before with Spock. It was scary in a way and peaceful in another and fulfilling in yet another.

But what had it done to Spock? McCoy was enjoying himself with the rapture that had come over him to think much about Spock for awhile. But eventually McCoy did. There was no way that Spock would have missed the loving feeling toward him that McCoy was experiencing. They were touching, after all. The only way that McCoy could go undetected was for Spock not to realize what that wondrous occurrence had meant to him. Spock might be learned in many areas, but not with emotions and their meanings. He had no idea of the heights to which he was taking McCoy.

Whether Spock understood or not, he seemed caught up in the moment and went through the last short thrusts of lovemaking until he ejaculated. Then, wonder of wonders, he lay down gently over McCoy’s back and embraced him. Just like a real lover would. A lover who was in love and treasured his mate.

Spock snuggled against McCoy and tucked his chin into the side of McCoy's neck. That put Spock's lips next to McCoy's ear. "Yes, yes," Spock murmured as his tongue darted delicately inside.

McCoy shuddered. Now he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a moist tongue in the ear. It was wonderful!

McCoy was in heaven. This was what it should be. This was what he wanted. This was what love was supposed to be.

McCoy wanted to reach out and touch Spock and hold him and tell him much he was beloved. It was a hunger in his soul that would only be appeased when he gave succor to Spock. That would be so wonderful to love Spock back.

Spock stiffened. Too late, McCoy remembered that Spock probably realized what McCoy was thinking. Damn Vulcan! Can’t hide a thing from him when he was being touched.

Spock pulled himself up and carefully rolled away off McCoy’s body.

Oh, hell, and just when it was getting good! Yeah, the sex had been good. But the cuddling and the protectiveness of Spock’s arms made the afterglow wondrously complete.

And then it was gone. As if it had never been.


	9. Do You Love Him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys break up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it ain't purty.

Kirk frowned as he studied McCoy over his cup of coffee. The sounds of the crew eating breakfast around them faded as Kirk took a really good look at McCoy. Puffy skin puckered around McCoy’s eyes that looked tired and bloodshot. Had McCoy been drinking late last night? Or not gotten any sleep? Or both? The way the medical man was hunched over his uneaten breakfast, he acted like he really didn’t care about his looks, his breakfast, or even his life in general.

And Jim Kirk should have kept his observations to himself. But of course, he didn't.

“You look like hell, Bones.”

“Well, thank you, Captain Kirk," McCoy snapped. " You're no prize this morning, either.”

That was a lie. Kirk looked great. That golden skin of his glowed, and McCoy knew for a fact that Kirk’s skin was golden and glowed all over, everywhere on him. Doctors do have some perks, and McCoy would’ve been blind not to have known how damn pretty that Jim Kirk was. Too bad that McCoy didn’t have the hots for him. But he didn’t. No, that honor rested with a guy who was green all over and was a pain in the ass to him. Literally. 

“Maybe I seem that way because you’re looking at me with those bloodshot eyes,” Kirk snapped back. 

“Maybe.” McCoy thought. “Yeah, that's probably it," he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Bones, but cats wouldn’t even bother to drag in such a sorry looking mess as you are.”

“Well, then, it’s a damn good thing that you’re not a cat then, isn’t it?!" McCoy snapped. "Because here I am, your worst nightmare!” McCoy knew that there was acid dripping off his tongue, and he was in the mood to share all the acid inside himself. Let Kirk leave if he couldn't stand McCoy's mood.

But Kirk was not that easily driven off. “Feeling bitchy, hmm?” 

“And you’re gonna be the happy recipient. Aren’t you just the lucky one?”

“I think you should save it for the one you’re really intending it for."

McCoy gave him a hearty scowl.

"Speaking of cats, shall we say that I'm talking about a certain member of the cat family who isn’t acting the way he should toward you?”

McCoy didn't even bother to question whom Kirk meant. “You know damn well that Vulcans didn’t evolve from cats!” McCoy snapped.

“Well, if humans could evolve from fish, why couldn’t Vulcans evolve from cats? Cats are a little further up the ladder of life than fish. Cats are at least mammals, the same as humans.”

“It’s too early in the morning for this kind of discussion,” McCoy muttered. “But, yeah, in a manner of speaking, humans did evolve from fish. It happened over several hundred million years and was really convoluted, but your grand pappy millions of times over breathed through gills that he shot water through. How did we get into this kind of discussion, anyway?”

Kirk grinned. “Because you can’t help but debate about something. And Spock isn’t here for you to set straight about facts.”

“There are some perks,” McCoy grumbled.

“You don’t seem too happy about it.”

“What do ya need?! A brass band?! Me dancing on the table?! What do you want?! A tap dance around your scrambled eggs?! Hell, there isn't room enough on your plate for my one hand, let alone both of my feet!” McCoy snapped and his face contorted into something ugly and inhuman that Kirk didn’t want to know. He angrily stirred his cooked cereal, then tossed his spoon aside with a disgusted huff.

A few other diners looked over at the officers eating, and Kirk leaned closer. 

“Do you love him, Bones?”

“W-what?! Who?!” McCoy shifted uneasily.

“You know who,” Kirk said softly. “Do you love him?”

“What’s love got to do with it?!” McCoy snapped back with blazing eyes.

Jim Kirk got the wild desire to ask McCoy if he was Tina Turner in disguise, but Kirk figured that McCoy was not in the mood for snappy come-backs. Besides, that’s what McCoy did with Spock. Or used to, before sex made both of them humorless.

“Everything, Bones,” Kirk answered softly. “It’s what makes the world go ‘round, or hadn’t you heard?”

McCoy folded his arms and turned aside. “You’ve got a romantic streak a mile wide where your common sense should be.”

“And you’ve lost your common sense.”

McCoy angrily turned to confront Kirk, but Kirk spoke first.

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, Bones. Couples can have a lot of problems, but love is what keeps them going and what keeps them together.”

“We’re not building our own country here, just blowing off some steam.”

“I know. You’re building nothing, not even a relationship. And it’s wrong, Bones, so wrong. You’ve got to FEEL something for each other, not just jack-off.”

McCoy started to say something, but found that he had no viable arguments against what Kirk was saying. “If I don’t feel anything, Jim, my heart will stay numb. And I won’t get hurt.”

“You’re wrong, Bones. You’re getting hurt right now. You're not admitting to your true emotions. You're hiding what you're really feeling.”

"Damn romantic," McCoy muttered, then quick tears pricked at McCoy's eyes. "No, you're wrong about something. I'm hurting him," he said softly.

"What?" Kirk asked.

"I'm hurting him," McCoy repeated. "He's getting no pleasure from what we're doing. Let me say that a different way. He's not letting himself have any pleasure. He's denying himself to satisfy me. I think that he's on autopilot."

"But why?" Kirk asked softly. The prospects of what McCoy was saying astounded him.

McCoy shrugged. "Apparently he thinks that's all that I want. Just the--" He frowned. "The act itself."

"But why?" Kirk repeated. He was too shocked to say too much of anything else.

"I've said the wrong things, I suppose. Acted the wrong way. Given the wrong impression, too, I guess. Made him think that's all that I wanted from him." McCoy sighed deeply. "Just being my usual fuck-up, Jim. And I've made a mess out of it now. I wouldn't know how to start to change things between us. Besides, besides he might like things the way they are."

"I hardly believe that is true--"

"I do, though," McCoy mumbled. He stared at Kirk. "But don't tell him any of that. I know that you'll talk to him. But don't tell him that."

Kirk felt hamstrung. "But--"

"I've got to have some pride, Jim. Please."

Oh, hell, the 'please' word.

 

“This relationship that you are in with McCoy is bad, Mr. Spock.”

Spock looked at Kirk for a long moment with a wry twinkle in his eyes. “Good afternoon to you, too, Captain.”

“Alright, I can understand what you’re saying. I should mind my own business.”

“No, I am saying ‘good afternoon.’ Then that is where you say, ‘good afternoon’ back to me.”

“Now you’re sounding like McCoy.”

“Please, Captain, I just ate.”

“There! There it is again!”

Spock didn’t even bother to look puzzled or wise.

“And you’re understanding idioms. You didn’t even look around when I said 'there it is again.' You’re not Spock, after all.”

“I assure you, Captain, that I am. I have already fallen for that false expression many times from Dr. McCoy. I am quite aware of its idiomatic meaning now.”

“But are you also aware that you have a lousy personal relationship with Dr. McCoy?”

“I beg to differ, Captain.”

“I know that you do, but this relationship between you two just doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does to us, Captain.”

“Are you for sure? Are you both getting everything that you want from it?”

“I believe that we are.”

“And I believe that you are not.”

“You are entitled to your opinion, Captain. But, might I add, that it really is no concern of yours.”

“Yes, it is. It’s bound to affect your job performance eventually. Then it will definitely be in the realm of my business. Spock,” he said, touching Spock’s arm. “This relationship between you two does not make any sense. It is not logical at all.”

Kirk saw Spock’s mouth moving in response, but Kirk missed Spock’s reply because Kirk was stunned by what he had just said. He had just pointed out that Spock was not being logical. And not long ago, Kirk had told McCoy that he was not being emotional.

The universe was turned upside down! Spock was not logical, and McCoy was not emotional! What next?! Scotty would have the Enterprise flying backwards for maximum speed?!

Kirk wandered off, leaving a puzzled Spock staring after him. Fascinating, Spock thought. What a unique way to win an argument. It’s a wonder that McCoy had never thought of it.

Spock frowned. Why did his thinking always come back to McCoy? Maybe there was some sense to Kirk’s words, after all.

Spock would have to meditate on all that Kirk had said. Of course, Kirk had told him nothing he didn't already suspicion or know. It just made it all seem more like the truth to hear it said out loud, and by someone else.

 

From his office desk in sickbay, McCoy looked up at his visitor. Now what, he wondered. “Do you have something on your mind?" When that didn't get a response, he added, "The only reason I ask is because you look like the Town Crier who’s about to make a momentous proclamation and doesn't know where to start.”

McCoy didn't realize how close to the truth he was.

Spock stood primly before him at Parade Rest in front of the door he had just entered. He seemed to be staring at a point on the opposite wall well above McCoy’s head. 

McCoy frowned. As stiffly as Spock had marched in, McCoy had expected to see a drummer escorting him. But nothing had appeared, except for one piss-ant Vulcan.

”Cat got your tongue, or did you just want to find somewhere to hang out for awhile so you could play Stiff Statue? If that’s the case, hunt somewhere else up for your games,” McCoy mumbled as he turned back to his desk. “I’m busy. I've got work to do.”

Spock seemed to be having trouble forming words. Finally, he said, “I have come here to inform you that I will not be seeking your company anymore to engage in intimate relations with you.”

McCoy set down his pen and stared up at Spock who still had not looked down at him. “Oh, you have, have you?” he finally asked.

”That is correct, Doctor. Our physical relationship is now at an end, and I wish that you would be gentleman enough to honor my decision.”

”Oh, hell,” McCoy muttered as he wiped a hand across his tired face. Then he glared at Spock. “And you decided that you could just up and proclaim that, huh? Without consulting me?”

”That is correct.”

“That is not correct!” McCoy thundered. “Look, I know that you don’t know that much about relationships, but it’s not right! You can’t just up and decide something like that for the both of us!”

”But it is the best outcome for the both of us.”

”That’s one man’s opinion.”

”Two. Two men’s. Jim thinks so, too.”

”Jim Kirk is not in this relationship!”

”But his views make the most logical sense.”

”That may be. But we’re talking emotions. Logic has nothing to do with it.”

“Then how about common sense?” Spock finally glanced down. He nearly reversed his resolve when he saw McCoy looking up at him so innocently and so lost, despite the disgruntled look that he was trying to maintain. All that Spock would have to do would be to reach out and touch McCoy, and McCoy would be his again--

“Doctor, what we have is not good for us," Spock stated with renewed resolve. "It is hurting the both of us. We must stop meeting if we are to survive. It is destroying not only our bodies, but our very souls.”

”Kinda dramatic there, ain’t you?” McCoy didn’t sneer, but it was implied.

There was only one way that Spock could meet such sarcasm, and that was with simplicity. “It is the truth. It is destroying us.”

”It is, huh?” McCoy grimaced. He knew that Spock was right, but he made a final appeal. If Spock wouldn’t respond to logic, maybe he would to feeling. McCoy knew how much Spock enjoyed their mindless animal rutting. “If we were somewhere more private, I’d show you just how good our relationship is. I think that maybe you just need a reminder of what you can find in my arms.”

Spock grimaced, too, but plowed ahead. He was very determined. “That is why I came to your office and not to your quarters. I knew where we would end up if we were anywhere close to a bed.”

”There’s all kinds of biobeds just on the other side of that door,” McCoy remarked as he nodded toward the door behind Spock.

”It is a very public sickbay,” Spock insisted.

”I could have a biobed moved in here.”

”And everyone in sickbay would know what was going on in here.” He glanced at McCoy with a smirk that he was not feeling. “Whatever would Nurse Chapel say?”

That smirk cost Spock more than he realized for that was when McCoy gave up the argument.

”She’d say for you to get out and leave her boss alone.”

It took Spock a moment to realize that he’d been dismissed. He thought that McCoy would beg more. But in a mere heartbeat, McCoy had wiped his hands of him.

”It’s something that I should’ve said quicker myself,” McCoy stated in a tired voice, then smiled an equally tired smile. “Funny about Christine Chapel. She loves me. And she lets me know it. Unlike other people,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at Spock with steely eyes. “I have work to do now, Commander. I suppose that you do, also. After all, that’s all that’s really important to you, isn’t it?”

McCoy’s little digs were beginning to register with Spock. Too late, he realized that he had probably forfeited McCoy’s friendship as well as his physical favors. What would that do to their working relationship? Their relationship with Kirk? Meals?! Would they continue to eat meals together? Spock had not considered any of those factors when he was making the decision to end their physical relationship.

The pause was going on too long, and Spock must try to make a graceful exit with as much dignity as he could muster. Now was not the time to mull over the points of their relationship, not while McCoy was glaring up at him with justifiable anger.

”Doctor,” he said solemnly with a gracious nod.

McCoy merely nodded. He’d already dismissed Spock when he’d called him ‘Commander.’

But after Spock left, McCoy wasn’t feeling very proud of himself for what he’d said. It didn’t even make him feel justified or vindicated or triumphant.

Just tired.

 

Out in the hallway, Spock paused to take a deep breath. Then another. That had hurt worse than he thought that it would. He felt alone already.

He thought that it would be cut and dry, as easily done as terminating a business deal. But nothing is ever severed easily when it comes to emotions. And Spock was beginning to realize that he was going to cause himself some regretted pain from this day’s work. Why did he not know more about relationships?!

What he really regretted, though, was seeing the pain in McCoy’s eyes and knowing that he had caused it. Particularly, when all he had wanted to do was to take McCoy in his arms and soothe him and tell him it wasn't so.

Spock bit his lips together. Admit it, you idiot, he thought. You had wanted to do more with McCoy than just soothe him.

Much more.

But that was over now.

And he'd done it to himself.

Spock squared his shoulders and marched forward to do his duty.

 

Meanwhile, back in McCoy's office, silent tears were running down McCoy's face as he stared at the spot on the opposite wall that Spock had found so fascinating only moments before. But McCoy wasn't really seeing the wall any more than Spock had.

It was best, McCoy decided. Spock had been right. It was best that they parted. And yet, and yet--

A hollow place was opening up in McCoy's heart, and he knew that it would be a long time before it healed. If ever.


	10. Teach Me To Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock realizes that being apart isn't working, either.

So then began The Great Denial, as some were soon calling the situation between Spock and McCoy. It was difficult to miss the great hungering looks that they gave to each other, especially McCoy. He was definitely wearing his heart on his sleeve, even though he tried valiantly not to be obvious. He knew that it was for the best, but, oh, he was hurting!

McCoy was often seen watching Spock exit wherever they happened to have been together. One yeoman was heard to quip that McCoy probably didn’t recognize Spock by his face anymore because he was seeing Spock’s rear end so much. That story lasted the gossip mill on the Enterprise until Kirk heard the remark. Then he burned the yeoman with a scathing look and a searing suggestion that the yeoman mind his own business. Privately, Kirk thought that it was a very fitting statement. And very funny.

But Kirk was not in much of a mood for laughter since the romance between Spock and McCoy had soured. It put his whole working system out of whack. He was used to having input from Spock and McCoy as a natural order of events. Before, if Kirk saw one, he saw the other. They were always together and always ready to give Kirk the opposing viewpoints of some moral dilemma that was currently plaguing him. Now that dualism was gone.

And Kirk knew that there was more at stake than the easy working conditions for him. He hated to see his friends hurting. And they were definitely hurting, especially McCoy. Anyone could see the hunger in his eyes.

But Spock was suffering as badly with his pining for McCoy. He grew more gaunt than ever, and Kirk worried that Spock was not eating enough. That, for some reason, made Kirk eat more, and he gained three pounds in a week. The whole ship seemed to be under a blue funk because of the breakup. And if it continued for very long, Kirk would have to have uniforms made in a larger size.

But all that Spock could see was how bad that McCoy was appearing. The medic looked haunted and acted as if the world had come to an end for him. Tears were always threatening to spring into his eyes, and woe to anyone who showed him a picture of beautiful flowers or playful kittens or a mother holding a sweet baby. Other people’s happiness seemed to cause him acute pain because he was not having any happiness of his own.

And Spock shouldered the responsibility of causing all of this unhappiness and sorrow as if he was Atlas trying to hold up the whole universe. Meditation was not even helping him any, so he did not even have that escape.

 

Pain and shimmering tears shone in McCoy’s eyes. He was staring at Spock as if it was causing him great anguish simply to look at him. Which it was.

They hadn’t planned to meet face-to-face like they had. They hadn’t planned to be in the same corridor at the same time when no one else was around. But it was bound to happen, sooner or later, on a ship even as large as this one was.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to be here,” McCoy mumbled, but couldn’t seem to find the energy to leave.

“Doctor, it is not your fault. You have to be somewhere.”

Whatever resolve that McCoy had managed to keep melted. “Oh, hell, oh, hell, I’ve missed hearing you say stupid things like that!” McCoy declared.

Spock frowned, as if he took umbrage with that remark. But he did not challenge it.

McCoy wiped a shaking hand over his face and looked right and left for an escape route. He unbalanced himself in doing so.

Spock touched his arm to steady him. 

Awareness shot through McCoy with that touch, and he gasped as he stared up at Spock. He did stop his erratic thrashing about, which was what Spock had wanted. But McCoy’s motion was replaced with something somewhat worse for Spock to see.

Naked want had leapt into McCoy’s eyes. He could not hide it. “Why can’t I forget you?!” McCoy breathed. “I cannot stop thinking of what we had together. I cannot stop thinking of what we did together. I cannot stop thinking of you touching me and kissing me and turning me over so tenderly. And then. And then. And then….” He swallowed hard and wet his lips, but he had to keep on talking. “Oh, hell, and then you, you took me, took me and made me complete and delivered me to the angels….” His words strangled with emotion as his eyes filled with tears. "And they were so h-happy, just as I was!"

Spock could only stare at him with concern on his face and trepidation in his heart.

McCoy misunderstood Spock’s silence for something else. “How can you be so unfeeling? Teach me not to feel. At least do that much for me! If I’ve got to live through this hell where you’ve put me, at least tell me how to survive in it!”

If only McCoy could know of the confusion that he was stirring inside Spock. If only Spock could touch McCoy so that McCoy would know what he was feeling. But Earthlings do not have that sense of touch perception, only a Vulcan. And Spock could not begin to explain to McCoy. For this, for something so important to both of them, Spock had no words. For this meant dealing with feelings, and Spock could not express how he was feeling.

“I should have known better, I suppose,” McCoy mumbled when Spock did not answer McCoy's heartfelt plea. "You betrayed your principles because of me. And I know that it's difficult for you right now. That's the only thing that's stopping me from grabbing you." He looked at Spock with hunger. "Because I know that if I touched you, I'd have you back. But I'm bad for you. So if I can't do anything else for you, at least I can help you to be strong. That and your ability not to love should help you get along just fine. I know I was bad for you. But this is a helluva way to have to pay for it." McCoy bit his lips together. "How could you have forgotten already what it was like to be with me?" Pain flickered through his eyes. “But what should I be expecting anything different? How can you show anybody any love when you don’t know anything about it? I’m hurting so much, but you’re the one I feel sorry for. At least I understand why I’m hurting. At least I can hurt. So that makes me the lucky one. At least I'm alive.” He lowered his head. "Oh, hell, what's the use?"

Spock watched McCoy storm away. McCoy needed reassurance, but Spock didn't know how to give that. And McCoy was wrong about him. Spock hadn't forgotten a thing about being with him. Spock longed to embrace McCoy and taste his sweetness again. More than wanting to taste McCoy’s sweetness again, though, Spock yearned to hold and reassure McCoy. It was a physical ache that echoed in Spock’s heart.

McCoy was wrong, so wrong. Both of them were hurting, not just him. Separation wasn’t working. But Spock knew that it would take more than tempering their passion with trust and sincere caring. They must make a commitment to each other.

They must acknowledge that they loved. 

But how could Spock declare something like that when he didn’t even know how to love? When a man works most of his life to suppress his emotions, he cannot suddenly switch them on as easily as turning on a computer. It would be like becoming a different person. Spock did not know how to start, but he realized that he must be willing to change. He was the one who had caused the breakup. Now he must be the one to heal all the hurt that the breakup was causing.

Breaking up was breaking their hearts. They were learning the hard way that love doesn’t always go away simply because it is no longer wanted. Their fiery relationship might have been too soul-shattering, but separation wasn’t working, either.

As the lyrics in the old song said, “What a lovely way to burn.” And Spock was learning that the song spoke for him and probably for McCoy as well.

Not knowing where else to turn, Spock sought out a person whom he idolized and respected to give him a practical answer. He turned to his beloved captain who would give fair advice for all concerned.

Plus, Captain Kirk had a lot of experience when it came to matters of the heart. Spock did not know of anyone who had such a tragic romantic history. The only other one with a worse history was McCoy, and Spock couldn’t ask him.

 

Kirk was sprawled in his easy chair in his quarters. He was trying to relax at the end of a long, hard shift, but when is the captain of a star ship ever truly off duty? 

Kirk thought wistfully of the book that was awaiting him and an early bedtime. But, instead, here he sat looking up at his visitor. Not that he hadn’t seen this guy all day long during their shift today when they had worked together on the bridge. And certainly they had eaten all of their meals together, as was their usual habit. But now, once again, here was the same guy wishing to speak with Kirk when everyone should be settling in for the night.

Spock stood at Parade Rest and seemed to have something spotted on the far wall high above Kirk’s head. It was certainly drawing quite a bit of Spock’s avid attention, at least. Kirk had the wild desire to turn and look also, in case there was something he had missed on that wall. He had no idea what Spock could possibly be seeing, but Kirk had to admit to a certain curiosity.

“Is there something I may do for you?” Kirk finally said to get things rolling along. Surely Spock hadn’t come through their shared bathroom just to stare at Kirk’s far wall. But, then again, who ever knew for certain what was on the Vulcan's mind?

Spock straightened his shoulders, sucked in a deep breath, and furrowed his brows further down, otherwise Kirk’s request seemed not to have registered with the Vulcan.

Somewhere out in space, galaxies were being born, others were dying, and others were thinking about doing one or the other. They were all participants in the great regeneration of life in the universe. But not here, not on this spaceship, not at this moment. Time seemed to stand still while the universe, and Jim Kirk, waited for Spock to speak.

And Kirk was frankly puzzled. He had seen men have many different kinds of reactions in his day, but never one in which the guy seemed to freeze in place. Especially a guy who had hunted him up. Surely Spock’s purpose wasn’t to go into such an inanimate state just for Kirk’s benefit.

Was it?

Then when Spock did speak, it caused Kirk to suck his own breath in sharply. Kirk hadn't been prepared, after all.

“Captain, I find that I am in dire need of your help. I need you to teach me to love.”

Kirk blinked.

Not ‘how to love’ but ‘to love.’ There was a difference, Kirk decided as he mulled it over in his mind. A helluva difference.

Kirk got a flirty smile on his face. “Why, Mr. Spock. This is so sudden. I didn’t know that you cared about me that much. Or that way.”

Spock looked down at Kirk and his mouth fell open in surprise. He idolized his beloved captain, but he did not wish to start a physical relationship with him. He was having enough trouble with McCoy. Why would he wish to add to his troubles by starting an intimate relationship with the exuberant but unfaithful Kirk? Spock was very patient and quite capable, but even he shouldn’t be expected to juggle relationships with McCoy AND Kirk both at the same time. He loved Kirk, but he was not in love with him. And Spock was beginning to realize quite painfully the difference between the two.

McCoy was making him hurt on so many different levels. Spock was not prepared to begin hurting from romantic pain caused by Kirk, too. A man could take only so much. And even this Vulcan was ready to say that he had had enough.

With a grin, Kirk waved him aside as he stood. Spock's face had been a tableau of all that he was thinking, which was rare for Spock to show. Kirk knew that his friend must really be in an overwhelming dilemma. “Forget it. I’m just messing with you. But you gotta realize how many years I’ve waited to say those very words to you. And let me say, it was well worth the wait. You should have seen the look on your face.”

“It seems to be an odd goal to have, but I am happy that you have finally obtained it, Captain.” There was just the hint of exasperated condescension in his voice that Kirk chose to ignore.

“Oh, Mr. Spock, you are a treasure. A treasure, indeed.” 

“May I say that I appreciate that accolade also, Captain, but it is not helping me with my immediate problem.”

“I should stick to business, eh?”

“Well, yes, sir, if you would be so kind. I am in rather of a hurry.”

Kirk looked wise. “Yes, I suppose that your, ah, situation might be getting quite painful by now. How long has it been now since you last dallied with McCoy? Ten days? Two weeks?”

“Nine days, twenty-two hours, and seventeen, correction, eighteen minutes now."

"That short of a time, eh? Somehow, it seems longer. As you yourself could agree."

"Quite. But might I say, Captain, that is rather a crude way of putting matters.”

"Sorry. I'm just so damn glad that it isn't me. I think, though, Commander, that may be the whole root of your problem. The crudeness. It was just sex between you and McCoy, wasn’t it?”

“Unbridled lust, to be precise, sir.”

Kirk grinned. “I’m sorry. I'm not being flippant. It's just that I can’t think of you and unbridled lust in the same scenario. That might take awhile to get my mind around. I can’t think of you being a slave to your primitive urges. I can't picture you losing control.”

“Let me assure you, Captain, that is what happened.” Spock gave a noncommittal shrug. "More than once."

“Still waters run deep and all that, eh? McCoy got all the ol’ juices up and running for you, eh?” He grinned and poked Spock in the ribs with his elbow. “You old dog, you.”

Spock looked somewhat peeved. “That is something for which I should be congratulated?”

“You didn’t spend much time in a boys’ locker room during football season, did you?”

“Vulcans do not participate in contact sports.”

“No, they just wait around and save all of that pent up sexual energy on intercourse. Without too much foreplay. It's also probably why you bust a gut whenever pon farr grabs you by the short hairs. No wonder it's a miracle that anyone survives the ordeal."

"Captain, I do not understand. We do not 'bust a gut' during pon farr. All of our viscera remains intact in our abdominal area."

"That's not my point. I meant that uncontrollable passion overtakes you, and you aren't too considerate of your partner in your performance. At least, I’m thinking that’s what happened between you and McCoy.”

“I do not understand.”

“In other words, you got a home run, but you didn’t touch any of the bases.”

“Captain?”

“There’s a certain order of the way things are done. You gotta go slow and go by the rules, or else it’s called rape.”

Spock blinked. “I suppose that it was rape. Is it still called rape if the recipient encourages and enjoys it?”

“Did he fight you at all?”

“At first. But I believe that it was because he was startled that he had driven me to take that action. But since then, he has always gone along with it. Oh, we were battling and knocking each other around, but there was never any doubt of what the end result would be. He would finally submit, and I would take him hard and repeatedly.”

Kirk winced. “I think that’s part of your problem right there, Mr. Spock.”


	11. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys try to be more aware of each other.

Spock frowned with concern. “What? What did I do wrong, Captain?”

“In lovemaking, you don’t ‘take someone hard and repeatedly.’ That sounds like you overwhelmed him, and he didn’t have an opportunity to respond to you."

"But he seemed to like it."

Kirk remembered his promise to McCoy, so he had to be careful how he phrased his reply. "Well, maybe. Sometimes. But sometimes people like tenderness occasionally, too. Nothing will ever take the place of a cuddle, especially after the fun part is over and you’re both ready to rest. This act of lovemaking should be something mutual that gives pleasure to both of you. And it should come from both of you, not be some battle royal. It sounds more like we were lucky that you didn’t tear up a roomful of furniture every time you started your courtship dance.”

Spock looked smug. “I must say that we were rather inhibited.”

Kirk winced again. “That’s another thing I’m going to have to work on. You uninhibited. I might even have nightmares about it.”

”When we first started, he asked me to do certain things, things that I now realize were meant to be gentle and considerate. But then, when we came together the second time, it was wild and inhibited. I thought that was what he actually wanted, but it hurt him physically and sent him to bed.”

”Wait a minute. Was that when he was missing so much time at work because he was laid up with a mysterious ailment?”

”Yes,” Spock admitted sheepishly. “I assume that I did not know my strength or my intensity. He reassured me that his anal area was of a normal width and length. I can only say that my passion overtook me and that I abused him. I know that I could hear him squealing and groaning through the red haze around me, but I continued with my relentless thrusting. He suffered, but he did not stop me. He was at my mercy, and I was at the mercy of my carnal desires. I could not stop myself until I was serene again and he was conquered.”

Kirk licked his lips and gave Spock a hard look. “You could give a man wet dreams to last him through a long dry spell, did you know that? That's one helluva description of a dominant/submissive encounter. You could be the delight of any bottom out there and the answer to his prayers.”

”I do not know of what you speak, Captain.”

”Of course, you wouldn’t,” Kirk muttered and wiped a line of perspiration off his forehead. He breathed deeply and concentrated on Spock’s problems instead of the one which had suddenly come up for him. He knew what he’d be dreaming about for the next several nights, or at least what would be preventing him from getting any sleep.

Spock gave Kirk a beseeching look. “Just tell me please what I can do to correct my mistakes and convince him of my earnestness? I so want to make him happy again.”

Kirk was awed. “Oh, you poor bastard! You’ve got it bad, don’t you? Not a thought about yourself, just him.”

“I am beginning to feel that I truly am a bastard. How can I be the product of such parents as mine and act the way I have been performing?”

“At least you see the problem. That’s a start.”

“I will be grateful for any advice.”

“Well, you will have to court him.”

“Court him?”

“Make him think that you’re after romance, or least something higher than hanky-panky.”

“Will he not realize the truth?”

“It’s all illusion, Spock! Like magic, it’s all an illusion. And the whole field of romantic literature is an illusion for hanky-panky. It’s just an excuse to get someone in bed and start the next generation on its way. That’s all that Mother Nature is concerned about: the next generation and getting it started on its merry way to being born.”

“That sounds deceitful.”

“That’s the way that the universe revolves, Spock. And it’s been revolving in that fashion for thousands of generations. And it'll probably stay on that pattern for a long time to come. It's kinda been working out great for Mother Nature, and she can be a bitch when it comes to change."

"That sounds like a certain doctor I know." Spock thought a moment. "So, I should be sweet and tender with him, despite my prior conduct during our previous encounters?"

"That is correct," Kirk answered, trying to remember if he had ever heard of anybody in a relationship referring to the lover's behavior as 'prior conduct during our previous encounters.' Then he wondered what love words from Spock would sound like. Kirk mentally shook his head. Even he did not have an imagination that big.

"Captain? Is there a problem? Are you confused?"

"Somewhat. Amazed, too."

"I should not have bothered you with my problem."

"Spock, it isn't that. I just want to give you good advice."

"I appreciate your concern. But the conundrum might be impossible to solve."

"Come on, Spock. All you need is a little time. And a little sugar. Try using some sweetness on McCoy. It'll probably work wonders."

That's when Kirk heard some of Spock's unconscious humor.

"I do not know if there is enough sugar in the universe to sweeten Dr. McCoy, Captain."

Barely managing to keep a straight face, Kirk said, "Well, Mr. Spock, we can never know until we try now, can we?"

“Lately I have developed an addiction to a natural sweetness that I have never found anywhere except in his arms.” Spock gave Kirk a sly little grin. “It is really quite intoxicating and might be one of the few things that could replace chocolate for me as a stimulant.” He paused for thought. “It is really quite amazing now that I think about it.” His eyes sparkled. “He is pure honey inside, Captain. And it has all been mine to enjoy.” 

It was at that point that Captain Kirk decided that he really had no further need for details. In fact, he had to excuse himself for an urgent trip to the restroom. He hoped that he had helped Spock half as much as Spock had stirred Kirk’s imagination and libido.

 

“Chapel, you left your flowers in here,” McCoy called from his office.

“Those are not my flowers, Doctor,” she called back.

“Well, they aren’t mine.”

“They are now.” She appeared in the doorway. “I know that they are your flowers because I saw them delivered.”

“What the hell?!”

“There's a card attached. Read it,” she instructed in a voice that said that she knew very well whom the flowers were from. “The flowers are pansies,” she said, loving each word as it tripped off her tongue. Then she rolled her eyes dramatically. “Pansies are for thoughts, you know. That means that someone must be thinking of you.”

McCoy felt like throwing a Grey’s Anatomy at her, but he didn’t want to injure his prized book. Instead, he reached for the card. 

"I'll read it to you and prove you wrong. ‘Pansies are for thoughts and want only to please,’" he read from the outside of the card. He cleared his throat. The evidence was piling up against his argument. He opened the card and read, "‘And so I thought that you might like these.’ Oh, hell," he said as he rolled his eyes in disbelief at the trite words.

How corny can you get?!

”I think it’s sweet,” Chapel said. “And it's so poetic.”

”If you think that’s poetry, I’ll have to introduce you to William Shakespeare and Emily Dickinson. They wrote poetry; this is doggerel.”

”I still like it,” she said stoutly. “Somebody was certainly trying to please you. That should account for something. Who sent it?”

”I don’t know. Didn’t you notice who delivered them? Or were you just too overwhelmed by the appearance of them to notice anything else?”

“Stop being an old spoilsport and look at the card.”

“You’re having too much fun at my expense.”

“Go on!” she urged. “Stop complaining! “You’ll make me question why anyone took the trouble to have flowers sent!”

“Pushy woman!” he muttered. Then he looked at the signature on the card and frowned. “A capital V in outline? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What is it? Here, let me see,” Chapel insisted as she peered over his shoulder. “You’re no good at all when it comes to puzzles.” She looked, then started laughing. “That isn’t a capital V, Doctor! That’s that Vulcan greeting that Spock does. You know,” she said as she spread her two middle fingers apart. “Live long and prosper? Your flowers are from Mr. Spock, Doctor. How cute! He is really quite clever and so sweet!”

How corny, he thought as he shoved the card away with a growl as she grinned. That’s MY thought about that!

Then he realized that he had an entirely different thought about the present as he tried to scowl at it. He realized that he loved it.

 

“Your flowers were lovely,” McCoy said softly as they met outside the mess hall later that day. He leaned a little closer. “Why did you send them? Are you expecting that they’ll get you to second base?” he asked with a beguiling smile that belied his snide words.

“Captain Kirk used that same baseball metaphor, but did not explain it. Where, exactly, is second base?”

McCoy straightened and pulled away from Spock. “Well, let’s put it this way. If I was a woman, it would be a pretty exciting place to reach. On me,” he shrugged, “not so much.”

“Maybe it depends on who is trying to reach second base.”

“Eh?”

“You know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“You’re corny,” McCoy muttered, trying to keep his lips from twitching into a grin.

“Ah, gentlemen,” Kirk said as he approached them, rubbing his hands together with enthusiasm. “Ready for dinner?”

“Apparently not as much as you are,” McCoy muttered.

“What’s his problem?” Kirk asked as they trouped into the mess hall.

“I believe that he is in anticipation, Captain.”

“Oh, what is he in anticipation of?”

McCoy shot Spock a hard look, but Spock deftly sidestepped it.

“Why, dinner, of course,” he answered with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m not too hungry tonight, guys," McCoy said. "Mainly, I’m just here to keep you company.”

Spock frowned. “You have not been eating well, Doctor. You need to consume more nutrients.”

”Maybe I’ll eat some soup,” McCoy said, mainly to appease Spock. "Something with a lot of vegetables, not just broth. And crackers. Does that meet with your approval?"

“But, Doctor, there is supposed to be Southern fried chicken with white gravy on buttermilk biscuits and fried green tomatoes. And sweet potato pie and collard greens and mounds of buttered mashed potatoes. And okra and pickled peaches and sweet tea and….”

“Whoa! Just a minute! Where did all those Southern specialties come from?”

“They arrived on the supply ship today,” Spock said innocently.

“And how did they get on the supply ship?”

“Oh, I suppose that they were loaded somewhere.”

“I mean… Somebody had to have ordered them.”

Spock shrugged. “I suppose that someone did.”

McCoy gave Spock a hard look. “Why?”

“It was thought that a taste of food from home might stimulate your appetite. Your commanding officers thought that it was prudent to use these means to correct your flagging interest in basic nourishment.”

“You two assholes are my commanding officers,” McCoy growled.

“Amazing how that all works out, isn’t it, Bones?” Kirk asked with a lazy grin. “Well, now all you have to do is pile it on your plate and dig in.”

McCoy paled. “I can’t eat that much food! Nobody could!”

“I’ll gladly clean up whatever crumbs you miss.”

“Back off, Kirk,” McCoy growled. “Not even chicken bones will be left if you get your grubby paws on my food.”

“You sound awfully possessive.”

“Damn straight!”

“It looks really good, Bones,” Kirk said wistfully. “Somebody did a really good job of preparing this feast. I expect that almost nothing is reconstituted.”

“Oh, hell, dig in. But I’m watching you!”

“Food always tastes better when other people eat it with you,” Kirk stated as he bit into a chicken thigh.

“That it does, Jim.” McCoy turned. “Thanks, Spock. For this. It was very thoughtful.”

“Perhaps you will be eating regularly now, Doctor. People worry when you do not.”

“Well, now, can’t have that now, can we?” He picked up a dish. “Here, try some of this sweet potato pie. You’ll love it.”

“It appears that there are all sorts of things around for me to love, Doctor,” Spock said softly as he gave McCoy a mellow look.

Why, you old flirt, McCoy thought. Instead of yelling it, though, he simply gave Spock a soft smile back. The guy deserved that much for all the trouble he’d gone to. Then McCoy dug into the specialties from his homeland before the Vulcan started spoon-feeding it to him or Kirk ate it all.

 

McCoy answered the door to his quarters, and the smile died on his face. There stood Spock in a meditation robe. “Oh. It’s you. I wondered when you’d be around.” He turned away. “Come on in. I expect that it’s pay up time now.”

“Doctor?” Spock asked as he followed McCoy into the room. The door slid shut behind him, and it was the first time that they had been alone, really alone, since they had split up.

“You know what I mean. I gotta pay for the flowers and the Southern fried chicken and the nicey-nice chats with you and Jim, like we were civilized people and all. I figured you’d collect my debt sooner or later. Do you want to get right to it, or do you want the pretense of chatting for awhile when we both know how this evening will end?”

“I believe that you have misunderstood my intent. I wish us to disrobe, but for a very different reason. We are not going to engage in coitus.”

McCoy overlooked his stab of disappointment. “Something civic minded, I suppose. Wanna start a nudist colony with an exclusive membership of two? Come on, Spock! I know you didn’t come here to take a shower or to meditate! What’s going on?!”

“Perhaps it can best be explained with illustration.”

“Oh, great! Now I get to be a voyeur of myself! That should be a first!”

Spock lowered the lights to ten percent. “Now let us disrobe and sit on the bed.”

“And ten minutes later, we’ll be rolling on it. Nothing new in that.”

“We will keep our small clothes on.”

“You mean our skivvies?” McCoy asked as he pulled off his black undershirt and piled it on top of his blue tunic.

“Doctor, you still are messy with your clothing,” Spock reproved as he picked up McCoy’s shirts.

“Well, I haven’t had little Miss Suzy Homemaker in here being fussy for awhile, either. I guess I kinda fell back into my messy ways again.” He pulled off his boots, then his trousers. “Oh, hell, are you hanging up everything? Including mine? You know that the dorm housemother isn’t going to have a surprise room check, don’t you? I’d hoped that we were kinda passed that stage now.”

“And I would have hoped that we were passed the stage when we needed a housemother to remind us to keep our clothing neat and clean.”

“You know, you’re gonna make someone one helluva wife someday!”

“That is what I think about you, too, Doctor.”

They stared at each other, until McCoy abruptly broke away. “Oh, hell, let’s get on with this little exercise of yours. It’s getting late, and I need to get some sleep.” He turned and glared back at Spock. “I do have to work tomorrow, you know.”

“I know. So do I. Do not worry, Doctor. You will have sufficient time to receive adequate rest.”

“That’s good to know,” McCoy muttered, but he noticed that small stab of disappointment again. Here he thought that they’d be rolling around on the bed for half of the night.

Then he wondered what the Vulcan had planned. If it wasn’t sex, what else could it be?


	12. Touch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock tries more of Kirk's advice.

Soon they were seated cross-legged on the bed in front of each other.

“Wanna play ‘patty-cake?’” McCoy quipped with a wry smile. “I feel like we should be sitting in a sandbox instead of on a bed.”

“A sandbox would have worked very well, but your bed was available.”

McCoy took a deep breath and let it out. “Alright. Now, what? I’m starting to feel ridiculous.”

“Do you feel uncomfortable sitting like this with me?”

“Surprisingly, no.” He smirked. “Just ridiculous.”

“Perhaps we can put you more at ease.”

“Well, I was hoping that there was more purpose to this exercise than messing up my bed.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Then, what?” McCoy asked suspiciously with a smirk. “You’ll show me a big surprise?”

“Not quite. Please. Just close your eyes.”

“Alright,” McCoy said with a smile. “Eyes closed. Now what?”

Spock took just a moment to drink in the sight of McCoy’s body so close before him. The smile that was mixed with expectation and skepticism. The beautiful skin. The handsome features. And that was just the surface. What was inside was more exciting and more amazing than any bodily beauty. Why had Spock not noticed any of that in depth when he’d had the opportunity? No, he had been too busy making home runs to stop at any of the interesting bases. And now he had to admit, they were interesting bases.

“Hello? Gone to sleep out there?” McCoy called, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Sorry. What we are going to do is an exercise in awareness.”

“I don’t know about you, Vulcan, but I’m already aware of you,” McCoy informed jovially. "I can feel your vibrations from clear over here."

“This is a different type of awareness.”

McCoy openly grinned. “Didn’t know that there were multiple types.”

“Perhaps I should have said, a different area of awareness.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I am.”

“Alright, put your hand out and touch me.”

“You mean like this? Hello!" he said as groped Spock's shoulder and then his face. "Are you gonna be playing ‘Feel In the Dark,’ also?”

“Yes, I am. Now, keep your hands away from erogenous zones.”

“Aw, but that’s where the good stuff is!”

“We are sharpening our tactile awareness of each other.”

“Oh, yeah! Nice stuff ya got there!” he said as he groped Spock's breast.

“Not so rough, Doctor. You are not supposed to manhandle me. In fact, the lighter your touch, the better the experience for you.”

“You use your technique, and I’ll use mine! Oh! I see what you mean," he said as his fingertips trailed over Spock's nipple and felt it pucker in response to his touch. "I mean, I feel what you mean.”

”That is good, Doctor, you are learning about me through the sense of touch.”

“Okay, what are we gonna do after we feel each other up, in a nonsexual manner?” His voice seemed to reflect that he already knew what the next step would be, and he was actually anticipating that outcome.

“Then we will sleep together in the same bed without touching.”

“What the fuck?!” McCoy’s eyes shot open. “I thought you’d drill me!”

Spock opened his eyes. “While I could do that quite easily, that is not our goal for tonight.”

“Well, it might be my goal, did you ever think of that?!”

“Patience, Doctor. We must learn to appreciate before we are allowed to sample.”

“Sample, hell! I’m ready to gulp! If you don't believe me, I can prove it! Quite easily! Seeing is believing, I always say!” He grabbed the waistband of his skivvies. “Wanna see?!”

Spock reached out and ran the palm of his hand down McCoy’s cheek. He paused and rubbed his little finger lightly over McCoy's sensitive lip.

McCoy closed his eyes and reacted to the gentle, but sensuous touch.

“Do you really want to miss the pleasures of that for sex, Doctor?”

“No,” McCoy whispered as he opened his eyes and caught the hand in his. “I want it all!” he whispered hotly.

“And you shall have it, eventually. But for now, we sleep in the same bed. Without touching,” he said as he lowered himself to his side of the bed.

“I suppose that you’re going to be a piss-ant about this,” McCoy grumbled as he looked down at his uncooperative bed partner.

“Goodnight, Doctor,” Spock said firmly as he composed himself for sleep on his back. He looked more like a corpse stretched out in a coffin. All he lacked was a single flower held up in his hands. And if he'd been asked, McCoy would have confirmed that Spock was acting more like a corpse than an accommodating lover.

There was nothing for McCoy to do, but to go to sleep on his side of the bed, too. So he sighed and did just that.

Some hot lovers they were, McCoy thought. Spock was just hot, virtually. McCoy finally got to sleep, but it wasn’t easy because he was lying beside a walking furnace. If Spock would've been an Earthling with that kind of temperature, he'd been sent to sickbay. But McCoy was sending Spock nowhere. At least a hot, stiff corpse beside him was better than nothing.

Surprising how little we finally allow ourselves to settle for, McCoy told himself as he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

When McCoy awoke the next morning, Spock was gone. An overwhelming sadness and longing came over McCoy, and he realized that his bed felt mighty lonesome without Spock in it.

Then a memory came back to him. He seemed to remember being halfway awake earlier and feeling wonderful. What was so great was that he realized that he was in Spock’s arms and that Spock’s lips were on his temple. McCoy thought he could hear soft, incoherent words, then realized that it was chanting. No, no, it was a lullaby, a lullaby that sounded like chanting. And Spock was singing it, to him. And it was all so, so very, very perfect. McCoy remembered feeling so treasured.

Why had he been in Spock’s arms? Perhaps his sleep had been restless and he had turned to Spock for comfort. For whatever reason, Spock was trying to soothe him. And it had been so wonderful being in his arms and having the knowledge that Spock wanted him there. The palms of his hands on Spock’s chest enabled McCoy to feel Spock’s heart beating. How thrilling to know that it beat for him!

He had sighed in contentment and relaxed and had nearly gone back to sleep in Spock’s arms. He could gladly stay this way forever!

Then Spock was gone. McCoy felt him withdraw. He tossed for a moment, then returned to sleep.

Why had Spock not stayed?

 

“You didn’t stick around,” McCoy accused later.

Spock placed his food tray on the table. “Good morning to you, too, Dr. McCoy.” Then he sat down opposite McCoy.

“Don’t expect me to act pleasant and forgetful, did you? So you disappeared.”

“It was for the best, Doctor.” Spock laced honey into his cooked cereal and methodically placed slices of banana on top. 

“Are we ever gonna get around to, ah, you know what?” 

Spock sprinkled granola over all of the food in the dish as McCoy watched. “Doctor, we are not going to rush things.”

“Even if I want to?”

“You are going to be properly romanced.”

McCoy gave a huff of exasperation. “This is one helluva deal! First the honeymoon, then the courtship! It’s like we’ve got our asses screwed on backwards!”

“Well, then, we would certainly get a different perspective of the world, would we not? People would be more concerned about their hips than their tummies because hips would be seen by them and not their tummies.” Spock’s voice seemed to be barely contained with some sort of mirth that only he understood.

Spock's inside joke did not endear him to McCoy. “You’re bat crap crazy!”

“Once again, it is all in one’s perspective now, is it not? We must be patient. It helps to build one's character, does it not?”

”I don’t know about you, Vulcan, but my patience is running mighty thin!” McCoy leaned toward him. “And when in the hell are you ever going to be able to use contractions?! 'Is it not?!' 'Does it not?!' You sound like someone out of Elizabethan England!”

“The computer program I used to learn English did not use contractions. I learned to speak proper phraseology, not colloquialisms. Even Mother did not use contractions around me. It was deemed best that I did not learn to speak the tongue of the common people.”

“Well, get over it! We native speakers use colloquialisms! You’re around us! We’re a walking tutorial program for you! Use us! We write correct English, but we speak colloquially! Especially outside of the lecture hall or the political area! And then you might hear a whole lot of grandiose wordage that amounts to nothing! But talk like us in casual conversation! Use our diction, which is relaxed! But it sure as hell does not mean that we are common!”

Several nearby diners glanced their way. McCoy and Spock were at it again, their faces said.

“Sorry,” McCoy muttered to them. “I guess I’m a little crabby.” He glared at Spock. “But I have a reason to be! I got disappointed!”

“Let me make it up to you, Doctor. There is a dance this evening. Let us attend it together.”

McCoy perked up. More time in Spock’s arms! He’d never told Spock how much he liked all of that touching that they had done last night. He figured that Spock had been able to figure out that much from all the smiling that McCoy had done and his eagerness to touch and to be touched. Some things don’t need explanation. Surely his happy reaction should have spoken of his delight. But then it was kind of like scattering seeds. They gotta fall on fertile ground and get cultivated for them to grow. McCoy had no way of knowing if Spock understood how happy he had made McCoy.

 

”It’s a perfect evening, Jim. And you look like a million dollars.”

Jim Kirk looked amused as the sounds of dance music flowed around them. “Aren’t you supposed to be saying that sort of thing to the guy that you’re with?”

McCoy shrugged. “Spock’s off getting us some punch. He won’t mind.”

”Don’t be making the big green guy jealous. I know I’d get jealous if the guy I was with started flirting with someone else.”

”Flirting?! You call that flirting?! How about this then?!” With that, he grabbed Kirk in a tight hug. “Do you wanna lead, or shall I?”

”Well, since you’re sweeping me off my feet, perhaps I better give you the honor of leading," Kirk said as they began dancing to some fast music. "Otherwise, I don’t know how savage you might get before the evening is over.”

”Me?! Savage?! Why if I was going to be savage, I’d--” McCoy paused when he saw Kirk bug his eyes and nod at something over McCoy’s shoulder. McCoy knew without asking or without getting Kirk’s clarification what he had spotted.

”Your date is back with your drink, Bones. I think he’s ready to reclaim you now.”

McCoy released Kirk, and they both readjusted their clothing.

”Anyway, Jim, it’s a new dance craze, but I don’t know if it’ll catch on. It looks more like old fashioned wrestling to me.”

”Felt like it, too,” Kirk agreed. “Well, I think that I’ll leave you two gentlemen alone so you can enjoy your punch and the rest of the evening. Gentlemen,” he said with a nod and beat a hasty retreat.

“Thanks, buddy,” McCoy said under his breath. “Leave me with the jealous green guy.”

But Spock merely handed a glass of punch to McCoy. “I see that you and the Captain were trying a new dance step.”

”Yeah, but he couldn’t quite get the hang of it.”

”You might try to teach it to me if you wish to have a student.”

Oops! Maybe Spock was jealous after all.

”You know, I believe that the old fashioned ones will suit us just fine.”

”Whatever you say, Doctor. I will leave that sort of thing to your discretion.”

The rest of the evening was a story from a fairy tale book. They whirled and twirled in each others’ arms as the music intoxicated them. The room was a blur, as were all of the other people at the dance. It could have been ten attending, or a hundred. They did not notice, and they did not care to notice. All that was important was them and the music and the night.

They smiled at each other and whirled and twirled some more. Thanks to the touching exercises, they were vitally aware of each other. And thanks to the magic of the night, they were unaware of anyone else.

 

Back in McCoy’s quarters, they undressed slowly despite their haste to make a home run. They came together at ten percent lighting and squatting on their knees on top of McCoy’s bed. They ran their hands over each other and gloried in the feel of naked flesh. They kissed closed mouth and kissed open mouthed and moaned and groaned their delight, their wonderment, and their passion.

Spock finally turned McCoy, but kept him on his hands and knees. Then Spock took him that way, Greek stud style. Or doggy style, as some people call it. McCoy grunted when the thrusts came hammering into him and from the excitement that shot through him. Spock was slow and careful with him, and McCoy wondered if the Vulcan was perspiring from the effort of taking his time. But the studied exercise paid off when they both shot off together. Passion rolled and rolled and rolled over them. And the lovemaking was good for both of them.

After they were separated again, Spock turned McCoy and pulled him to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. It was wonderful to be so entwined and alert and aware of each other. They could not get enough of touching each other, and McCoy thought that he had never had his whole body so thoroughly involved in the love experience before. Spock really had known what he was doing when he introduced those touching exercises.

Finally, despite their fighting it, they succumbed to sleep, still a tangle of arms and legs and aching bodies. But neither of them wanted to find a more comfortable position for slumber. They had each waited too long for this to happen just this way. Neither wanted to give it up. Nor did they wish to give up each other.

They had not made a commitment, they had not spoken binding words, they had not sworn undying love. Perhaps they couldn’t, perhaps they shouldn’t, perhaps they never would. But they were together again, in each others’ arms again, even if they never got the blessing of daylight for themselves and their relationship that really needed it.

 

But for now, for tonight, it was enough.


	13. Romancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys try more intimate relations.

Somewhere in the night, they awoke and untangled enough for McCoy to roll on his side. Spock spooned him and held him for a long time until primitive urges overtook him. He lifted McCoy’s upper leg and squeezed himself inside McCoy. It was a joining of deep breaths and panting gasps, of squeals and yips, of spouts of profanity and tears of joy. But the best came in the afterglow as they faced each other once more with their arms twined together.

“Darlin,’ darlin,’” McCoy whispered.

“My own, mine,” Spock whispered back. “My dearest Ashayam.”

McCoy tensed. “Oh, hell, not that, not that. I can’t live up to that.”

“Oh, yes, yes, you can. You can be no other than my dearest Ashayam. For you are mine.”

For once, McCoy didn’t argue against what Spock had said. He was content to snuggle against Spock and kiss whatever willing green flesh that his searching lips found. And there was a lot of willing green flesh for him to find. Spock made certain of that, for his lips were busy in their own search for willing white flesh which McCoy did not deny him.

And all the time, there was a steady stream of endearments coming from both of them. The words became a mantra, a lullaby, and finally a war cry as passion overtook them again.

And Spock placed McCoy flat on his stomach and opened his legs and finally his heart with all the love that was within him. So many ways to take McCoy! So many ways to pledge himself! So many ways to prove himself!

And then came the delightful cuddling and the soft words and pledges of love again.

“Darlin,’ darlin.”

“Ashayam. Mine.”

Could anything be more perfect than this? Cuddling and kissing and soft, soft touches everywhere. Touches just to know that the other one was really there. What difference did it make to McCoy if Spock had not said the words that would make a commitment from him complete? What difference, as long as Spock was holding him and using him and loving him with that touching? What difference, as long as those tender words between them broke the stillness of the night?

And they went to sleep that way, with the murmurs of those terms of endearment echoing in their ears and their immortal souls. This was it, this was perfection, McCoy was in paradise. What more could McCoy possibly want? He had his beloved Vulcan in his arms and he was content.

And his beloved Vulcan had him.

What more did they need of heaven to have satisfaction in their lifetimes?

 

And yet, despite the long night of lovemaking and the murmuring of those tender, loving words between them, when McCoy awoke the next morning, Spock was again gone. And McCoy felt betrayed once more.

“What the hell?!” McCoy protested as he looked at the empty side of the bed beside him. He sat up, tossed the sheet aside, and wiped his bleary eyes. “You better be somewhere taking a good, healthy shit, Vulcan! Or getting me some hot breakfast! Because anything else is gonna get you into a helluva lot of trouble!”

When nothing answered his angry threats but silence, McCoy realized that Spock wasn’t the only one in trouble. They both were.

 

“So, what was that all about? Why did you leave me? Did you go somewhere so you could get some much needed sleep?” McCoy growled lowly in the neutrality of the mess hall later that morning as the noise of other diners sounded around them.

Spock squirmed uneasily as he stared down. He did not answer, but neither did he get up and walk away from McCoy’s wrathful words, either.

McCoy’s breakfast sat untouched before him. If it was any consolation, the Vulcan’s breakfast was untouched, also. It wasn’t a consolation, though, McCoy decided. He couldn’t even get any satisfaction that Spock was hurting, too. Hell, he wanted to protect Spock and take away any pain that he was feeling. He wanted to hover around him and cover him with a blanket of protection. He would've made a helluva mother! But he wanted to shield Spock from all harm.

Damn it, that probably meant that he was in love with Spock. For all the joy that news should be giving him, it fell rather flat. It was turning into just an out and out shitty day. And to make matters worse, here came Kirk with a grin a mile wide on his face. Even the sunshine reflecting from around him was enough to make a guy throw up. Couldn’t the guy take a hint from the sour faces meeting him that they were going to be lousy company? Especially if he was Sunshine Personified? Heaven save us, Kirk must be that dreaded of all species: a morning person.

Of course, Kirk sat with them. And of course, he was enthusiastic for what the day held before them.

“G-g-good morning, gentlemen!" he greeted as he unfolded his napkin and patted it into shape on his lap. "I assume that you slept well?”

There went that blinding smile of Kirk's again, and McCoy wanted to groan out loud instead of just inwardly. Surely his wince would be enough of a clue for Kirk to tone it down.

“Not that you’d notice,” McCoy muttered and squinted at Kirk’s sunshine as he looked at Kirk. It was kinda like looking at an atomic pile or into a sun. It was hard on the eyes and shouldn't be done.

“What’s the matter? I figured that you guys would be over the moon this morning." He leaned closer in confidentiality. "Seeing as how well the night probably went and everything.” There flashed that electric grin again, but this time it was accompanied by a wink that just made the flash of electricity more pronounced when it appeared again.

“Nope. We crashed," McCoy answered. "We were doing fine. Then, crash!”

Kirk looked mystified. “Crash? Why did you crash?”

McCoy shrugged. “Ask the Vulcan. It was his party.”

“Do you know what he’s talking about, Spock?”

Spock stirred himself to answer Kirk, which was more than he had done for McCoy. “I was unaware that I was hosting a party.”

But Kirk pounced. He’d gotten a good night’s sleep, and he could actually think this morning. “Oh, no, you don’t. No, you don’t. Don’t even try to pull that crap on me, Spock. You can yank all kinds of chains on McCoy, but I’m immune, see?”

Spock looked puzzled, then opened his mouth anyway.

“Don’t,” Kirk muttered. “Don’t even start, not unless you’re a fish trying to breathe oxygen and wondering why it ain’t working as well as breathing in water always did. And don’t, I beg of you, don’t ask about any chains that are being yanked on McCoy. I wouldn’t have the patience to explain that expression to you. I might’ve back when I first walked in here, but that was back when I was wanting to know if you were having a great day or not. Obviously, you aren't.” He bit his lips together. “Why did I even ask? You guys can sure as hell put a damper on an otherwise happy day. You're souring my disposition with every passing moment.”

McCoy perked up. Did that mean that Kirk's brilliant electrical show was at an end and that McCoy could stop squinting at him? That was the best news he'd had on this lousy morning.

“I thought that you wished to learn something, Captain. I assumed that is why you asked.”

"And you didn't answer me. You might've thought you did," he said to Spock's baffled face. "But you didn't." Kirk looked at McCoy. “How do you take hours of this shit from him?"

McCoy opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't, so he didn't. Spock just looked miffed by Kirk's words and McCoy's actions. Spock's face said that Spock thought that the Earthlings were acting crazy again.

"It's inhumane torture," Kirk said, warming to his topic. If he couldn't find an audience who liked his good cheer, then he would try ranting on them. They seemed to have a certain fondness for it and bickering, since they did so much of both. "Murder would be justifiable, you know. There’s not a jury in the universe that would convict you, Bones, especially after they heard the evidence. Hell, I’d be willing to testify for you. In fact, the jury would probably acquit you and give you a medal. I realize now that you’re just tougher than the ordinary person. Hell, I’m ready to bow to the better man, and you’re that man, Bones.”

That actually made McCoy feel better. “Why, thank you, Jim. I was needing some validation.”

“I do not understand what either one of you is talking about,” Spock admitted.

“My feeling about you for a long time now,” Kirk said.

“Mine, too,” McCoy chimed in.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I see that my company is not needed this morning,” Spock said as he scooted back his chair.

“Spock, sit down.”

“No, thank you, Captain. I will see you on the bridge. I believe that we will be able to relate to each other much better with only the presence of the crew assigned to that area.” He pointed an intense glare at McCoy. "And nobody else." Then with that, he stomped off.

“Ouch, Bones! There went your special invitation to the bridge. Are your ears burning or what?!”

“Not just my ears,” McCoy mumbled.

“Your heart?”

McCoy nodded quickly.

“What happened?” 

“You tell me! We made love! Three times! I thought that made everything fine! I know that I was having a helluva good time!”

“Now I know what else is burning,” Kirk muttered.

“Jim!”

“What else am I supposed to think? Three times! That would make anybody grouchy. Maybe he’s tired.”

“Yeah. Of me.”

"I meant that maybe he's cranky from lack of sleep. Poor guy!" Kirk commiserated.

"Well, he's not the only one! I was on the receiving end!"

"You just had to lie there."

McCoy leaned forward and snarled, "You're a bottom! You should know that you do more than just lie there!" He straightened. "At least I do! I give my partner satisfaction, not just a handy receptacle for his sperm!" With that, McCoy jumped up, grabbed his uneaten food, and headed out the door.

Several sets of eyes, besides Kirk's, watched McCoy leave. Their faces seemed to say that the officers were up to their usual craziness again. Then they returned to their own breakfasts and lives, the officers forgotten until the next time that they were disruptive.

Hmm, I think I've just been insulted, Kirk decided.

He sat there alone, then thought he should start the day over by coming into the mess hall and greeting his friends again. He began muttering to himself. “’Good morning, Captain.’ ‘Spock, always a pleasure.’ ‘How’s it hanging, Jim?’ ‘Can’t complain, Bones.’”

Yeah, that’s the way the conversation should have gone. 

“‘What mission is coming up, Captain?’” Kirk continued. “‘Funny you should ask. Guys, there’s something coming up that will require the both of you with me. The Three Musketeers together again. I can’t wait for it to happen.’”

And now Kirk wished that the mission wasn’t coming up at all. Because it looked like a pretty sorry group of musketeers would be going on it.

 

Later in the day, McCoy managed to catch Spock alone in a hallway.

“We gotta talk.”

Spock looked around furtively. “This is too open and too public. Someone will come along soon who might hear us.”

“Then you better listen up fast, because I’m gonna talk. Whether we get an audience or not. I'm getting tired of your finicky, half-assed morals. I think you're just hiding behind them.”

Spock wasn’t pleased, but he made no further objections.

“You never did say what you left me alone in bed before morning.”

Spock looked pained. “It was because of my finicky, half-assed morals, as you call them."

McCoy blinked. Spock never used language like that. And coming from his mouth, it sounded vulgar. It also shut McCoy up and got his attention which none of Spock's logic would've been capable of doing.

"I realized that I was using you when I should have been building your trust in me. I succumbed too easily to your charms. I did not keep my vow to romance you," Spock explained. "Instead of keeping you awake half the night, I should have been proving that I sincerely cared for you by letting you sleep in my arms.”

“Hey, I was getting the message. Three times in one night is awfully difficult to overlook. You couldn't have performed so well if you'd been passive. I pretty well understood that you cared a whole lot for me. Three times! That's nothing to sneeze at. It's remarkable and beneficial.”

Spock frowned. “Sexual activity prevents allergy attacks?”

McCoy looked puzzled. “What the hell?!” Then he remembered his remark about no sneezing. “No, no! Of course not! I’m just remarking on your prowess.” He grinned. “You performed like a stud bull!”

“An accolade which I did not aspire for, I can assure you of that.”

“Well, I’m not objecting to your performance, just your disappearance. What will it take for you to come back for a repeat performance?”

“You are rather coarse in your speech patterns.”

“I’m finding that I have to be that way with you. Subtlety seems to elude you.” He was about to say that he was going to have to call a spade a spade, but he did not want to fall into that conversational quagmire. Hard telling how deep a hole he would dig for himself with that one.

Instead, McCoy asked what he really wanted to know. “When are you coming back?”

“I will not be back until I can make a commitment to you.”

“When in the hell will that be?! I’ve only got a few good decades left in me! I don’t want to go to seed while you’re out somewhere contemplating your navel! I don’t have that luxury of waiting! Barnacles may be growing on my bottom even as we speak. Listen, all shitting aside, I’m tired of all these Mickey Mouse games. I want you to get at me again while I still remember why! Comprende?”

True puzzlement flashed across Spock’s face, and McCoy realized that he’d done it to himself. All of the idioms and references in his last speech would take ten witches a month to unravel. How in the hell did McCoy think that Spock could do it any faster?

McCoy knew when it was time to admit defeat. He had shot himself in the foot with his own full approval. He walked away while the mystified Spock stared after him. 

 

Kirk leaned in close as any good conspirator should. “So, what’s going on with you two? Or should I ask, not going on?”

“Spock’s playing hard to get.”

Kirk pulled back. “And I take it that you aren’t?”

McCoy glared. “That was unkind!”

“No, just logical.”

McCoy turned away. “Please. I get enough of that shit from the judgmental green guy.”

“Can you tell me what the problem is?” 

McCoy didn’t answer.

“Give me a hint? Hmm?”

McCoy grimaced, but stayed silent.

“Can you act it out? You know, charades? Come on, Bones, help me out. Sounds like--”

McCoy spun around. “Damn it, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a mime!”

“And I’m not a mind reader, but I don’t give up too easily.”

“Alright! Here it is." McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. "He wants to do more for me,” McCoy said miserably.

“More of?”

“Everything!”

Kirk grinned. “And that’s a problem?”

McCoy grimaced. “It is for me.”

Kirk smirked. “Funny. I never thought of you as high maintenance.”

“I’m not! It’s the Vulcan! He wants to make a ‘commitment’ to me, so I can know that he’s mine forever!”

Kirk forced a serious face. “I see what you mean. I'm sorry, Bones. I can understand your problem now. Some guy is trying to find a higher pedestal to put you on and to plan new ways to worship you. I don't know how you can take it. It's gotta be hell.”

“Jim--”

“Sorry. I’ll play nice. Seriously, Bones, it just sounds like he’s in love and not just in lust. It' you that he's after, not just that magnificent body.”

McCoy rolled his eyes at Kirk's teasing. “That’s not the problem! He wants everything perfect for me, and all I want is exclusive rights to him. Is that so much to ask?”

“According to him, yes, apparently.” He breathed deeply. “In the meanwhile, I want to know if you can concentrate on our mission long enough to be any good for me.”

“I can still turn in a decent day’s work! I don’t care how many crazy Vulcans are trying to mess up my life! Or put me on a pedestal.”

Kirk slapped his arm. “Good enough. Now if I can get just one crazy Vulcan to commit to my agenda, I’ll have a lot less stress in my life.”

“Feel lucky! I’m just trying to prove that he doesn’t have to be perfect for me. I just want him.”

Even Kirk could see the insult in that sentence, but he didn’t want to be in this discussion any longer. He slapped McCoy’s arm again, winked, and escaped.

Well, if that isn’t just typical! McCoy thought with exasperation as he rolled his eyes in disgust.


	14. The Greatest Of These Is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock seeks a sign that only he will be able to recognize.

And a few days later, matters hadn't changed any, much to Kirk's astonishment and aggravation. 

“So do you think you can do this mission with Spock, Bones?” Kirk asked again for clarification.

McCoy shrugged. “Why not?”

"Even though you two aren't, ah--"

"What's 'aren't ah' got to do with it?!" McCoy snapped with an accompanying glare that could chisel through granite.

Everything, Kirk wanted to answer, but wisely didn't.

“Won’t Spock be sniffing around you? Dogging you? Wanting to get you behind doorways and into dark alleys? Distracting you?" Kirk bit his lips together. "Wanting to hump you at the least opportunity?”

“No problem about anything like that. The Vulcan isn’t after me anymore.”

“What?!”

“He’s gonna leave me alone until he can make some sort of a commitment to me.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what he thinks I need. I know I’ve got enough of a commitment outa him. He makes me see stars. From inside the bedroom. With my eyes shut. He makes me weep for joy and cuss a blue streak and want to rid myself of any religious precepts I’ve ever embraced. He makes me forget everything except him. But that’s not good enough from him, he thinks. He wants to make some sort of Grand Gesture toward me.”

“A Grand Gesture?”

“His term, not mine.”

“What kind of Grand Gesture?”

“Beats the hell outa me. Ask him what he means. But he's right in thinking that it's time for us to back off. I haven't been good for him.”

Oh, hell, Kirk thought with a sigh. They’re worse than a couple of lovelorn teenagers. We're back to square one. I'm just a glorified housemother, the only difference being that I’m doing it out here in space. 

Where exactly did it say in his captain's book that he had to deal with shit like this?

 

Of course, the situation wasn’t any better when Kirk confronted Spock. If anything, Spock seemed haughtier and very determined. McCoy would say that the little green bastard was being a piss-ant.

“In order for Dr. McCoy and me to have any sort of relationship worthy of its name, we need to make a commitment to each other. We need more than just mutual concern and sincere caring.”

"You don't have to have a relationship that will amaze mere mortals and inspire the gods, it just has to satisfy you and McCoy. There's other facets to life. Health. Other people. CAREERS. Leave room for all of that stuff."

Spock saw that Kirk's patience was wearing thin. "I am sorry that my goal seems unobtainable to you."

"It just doesn't seem realistic." Then Kirk used a word that he knew would resonate with Spock. "Nor is it logical.” He noted Spock’s raised eyebrow as his point registered with Spock. “McCoy said that your commitment would require a Grand Gesture from you.”

“That is correct, Captain.”

“As if the two words started with capital letters?”

"Pardon?”

“You know. Grand. Gesture.”

“I did not realize that I had been putting that much stress on the words.”

“It sounds like stress is what those two words are all about,” Kirk muttered.

“I do not understand, Captain,” Spock said with a confused look.

“I don’t understand it, either, Spock.” Kirk frowned in thought. “And if you don’t, who does? But the important thing is if you believe that you can do your job while you are in pursuit of this Grand Gesture.”

“I will always be ready to do my duty to the best of my ability, Captain. My allegiance is to you and your mission. My love life is secondary. I know my professional priorities.”

“I don’t know if you do or not. You’ve never had your head this far up your ass before.”

Spock's expression soured. “I take umbrage with that remark, Captain.”

“You should. I would if I was you.”

“Then why did you say it?”

"I guess I'm frustrated with you."

"Frustrated?"

“Well, it’s got to do with the fact that you’ve never been in this situation before. Acting stupid, and all that. Just like the rest of us mortals."

Spock looked troubled, but did not speak. His captain was displeased with him. But at this moment, he was displeased with his captain. And a part of him was mulling over that paradox, as if Spock might never have the right to be displeased with Kirk.

"That is why you are in pursuit of this Grand Gesture. Acting stupid, and all. By the way, just what is the Grand Gesture?”

“I do not know, Captain. But I will know it when I encounter it.”

“Well, if your commitment has to be so spectacular, what does McCoy have to do to make a commitment to you?”

“Oh, he has already done that, Captain,” Spock reassured him with a satisfied smile.

“How?” Kirk asked, mystified.

“Oh, he clings to me and opens to me and lets me do all of these wonderful things--"

"Spock....”

But Spock wanted to share. "He babbles his need for pleasure, and I am only too happy to use my thrusts to change his babbling into incoherent shrieks. It is really quite lovely to hear. And so wonderful to experience.”

“Enough. Information.” Kirk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Too many images.”

“Sorry. You asked.”

"You know, McCoy might feel differently about all of this." Kirk tried to honor his word to McCoy. "He thinks that he isn't any good for you."

"I know. He believes that he is a bad influence on me and that I have betrayed my principles because of him."

"Well? Have you?"

"Perhaps. But maybe it was time for that to happen. What good are principles if one does not live life?"

Kirk was awed. Even Vulcans could fall. "Oh, hell, you've got it bad for him, don't you? You're ready to turn your back on everything you believe in, just as long as you can win him back on your terms, aren't you?"

"It is what it is, Captain."

“I still don't understand about this commitment issue. You love him freely with your body. Why isn’t that enough commitment from you to him?”

Spock shrugged. “It just is not, Captain.”

“Hmm,” Kirk muttered to himself. “Can’t argue with logic like that.”

 

“So what are we doing down here anyway, Jim?” McCoy asked a few minutes after they materialized on the starkly barren planetoid. He frowned as he looked around. “I’d hate to try to make a living farming around here. Unless I was selling rocks.”

“The air quality is good,” Spock reported as he consulted his tricorder. “But the ground lacks topsoil and is as barren of vegetation and water as the great deserts of Earth.”

”Well, as I understand it, gentlemen, this planetoid is basically a mining colony. Let’s see what we can discover about the population. Starfleet believes that conditions are appalling for the workers. We need to look around and see what we can learn."

 

“Is this a penal colony?” Spock asked after they finally discovered settlements, such as they were.

“No, it just looks like it. Why don't you check over that ridge?” He watched Spock disappear.

McCoy walked up a few minutes later. “It’s gotta be terrible working conditions around here, Jim! It's a human rights' disaster! The mines couldn’t pass inspection! The timbers are probably rickety! I’m looking inside one.” 

“Stay away from the mines, Bones.”

“Only if I think the miners are safe!” McCoy snapped as he moved away. "Somebody has to be their advocate!"

"Dead advocates can't help anybody!" Kirk called after McCoy.

"Yeah, yeah, mother. I'll be careful," McCoy muttered as he moved out of sight.

“Captain?” 

Kirk turned to Spock’s voice. “Anything?”

“Just more barrenness. Where is Dr. McCoy? I thought I saw him a moment ago.”

“He was just here,” Kirk said, looking around. “He wanted to see if that mine was safe for workers. I wouldn’t okay it, but he seemed awfully adamant. You don’t suppose--”

“He has disobeyed me, so it is feasible that he ignored your orders, also.”

"I like for people to take initiative, but--"

They heard an ominous roar from a nearby cave.

Kirk stared at Spock. “I think I know where McCoy is.”

“I must save him!”

Kirk grabbed his arm. “Spock! No! Wait until we can get more help!”

“No!” Spock shoved Kirk aside and began running.

“Spock! Come back! That’s an order!”

“Sorry, Captain! I obey a higher law!”

What the hell was Spock talking about?! What higher law?!

At that moment Scotty ran up. “Captain! Was that a cave-in?!”

“Yeah, and McCoy and Spock are inside! Come on!”

 

Spock saw McCoy sprawled under some timbers. Small rocks pelted down from a sinister creaking roof.

“Doctor!”

McCoy’s head shot up. Horror flashed across his dirty face. “No! Get out of here!”

“Doctor! I will save you!” 

“No! Go back! You damn idiot! Get outa here!” McCoy yelled as Spock raced toward him with a hand outstretched. 

Just as Spock grabbed McCoy’s right arm, more timbers overhead let loose. 

McCoy disappeared in a vast cloud of dust.

Spock did not release his iron grip on McCoy’s arm as they were both knocked to the ground. Spock grunted as debris pelted his extended arm. His left arm protected his head, and he hoped that McCoy was using his left arm to protect his own head.

Spock began to cough as dust swirled around him. He was slightly stunned by the avalanche.

Then he remembered. McCoy! He had been trying to reach McCoy!

Spock griped the arm beneath his hand, an arm that he could barely see. Was McCoy still alive? Or was Spock holding onto a dead man?

“Doctor?!”

“Here,” McCoy answered with a cough as he stirred. 

“Are you alright?”

“You mean outside of having half of a mountain in my lap?”

“Are you injured?”

“You mean outside of having half of a mountain in my lap?”

“You are alright,” Spock said with relief.

“You mean outside of having half of a mountain in my lap?”

That time Spock heard the fear and concern that McCoy allowed himself to admit.

Then Spock let a little of his own fear and concern show. “Doctor,” he said softly.

McCoy felt it too, and realized that it was time to face facts. “It’s no good, Spock. I’m kinda trapped here. Go get some more help.”

“I will not leave you.”

“Damn it, Spock! The rest of the roof could go at any time! Save yourself! At least one of us could live!”

“And I might cause a rock slide if I move. We both may have only moments to live.”

“Do you always have to recognize the elephant in the room?!” 

Spock almost grinned. If Vulcans allowed themselves to grin, that is. “We are no longer in a room, Doctor. And even if we were, there would not be sufficient space for an elephant to be in here with us.”

McCoy managed a chuckle. “Damn it, Vulcan, I’ve missed that. Your piss-ant preciseness.”

“And I have missed your blind stubbornness.” Spock let the fondness show in his voice. “You must be uncomfortable.”

“I've felt better.” McCoy twisted his legs around. “I’m a little numb, too, from--”

“--from having half of a mountain in your lap,” Spock finished for him. “I would like to get us out of here before the rest of the mountain decides to come down.”

“I would settle for some clear air. Rock dust isn’t my idea of lunch.”

“And these rocks are not my idea of a comfortable bed for you. Here.” He put an arm around McCoy’s upper body and tugged.

“The roof--”

“I am taking that chance. I cannot tolerate this situation a moment longer.” And with that, Spock proceeded to pull McCoy into his arms.

Rocks and dust and other debris rolled off McCoy as Spock yanked on him. McCoy yipped in pain. Finally, Spock had McCoy cradled against his chest with his arms locked tightly around McCoy. They breathed heavily in exhaustion, and the thick air made them cough for several moments.

Then they both relaxed and luxuriated in their close contact. They both looked at peace despite their other problems. Death might be moments away. But for now they were together and that was all that mattered.

“That wasn’t a very logical thing to do,” McCoy scolded. “We could both be under a whole mountain by now.”

“Uh huh,” Spock muttered as he alternately rubbed McCoy’s arms and hugged him tightly. Now Spock realized that he'd been aching to do something like this for days. Despite their dire situation, Spock felt happy. And complete.

“Besides, I may have internal injuries." McCoy sounded cranky. "For all you know, I might be bleeding to death.”

“No, you are not. I will not allow it.”

“You will not allow it.” McCoy absently played with Spock’s hand. “And how in the hell do you propose stopping something like that from your current vantage point?”

“I will kiss it and make it well.” And to prove his point, he gently kissed McCoy’s temple. 

McCoy closed his eyes to the gentleness of the kiss on his face. “I think you've got something there. I feel better already.”

“Good, good,” Spock murmured. He was so happy. He just wanted to cuddle next to McCoy and hold him forever. He didn't care for anything else, just this seam in time that was allowing him to clutch McCoy fast in his arms. 

Then Spock just gave into all of the emotion that he was feeling. He sighed in surrender and pressed his face into McCoy’s neck where he rooted around in the soft, yielding flesh. It gave Spock a great amount of comfort. His warm breath soothed McCoy’s skin and made McCoy close his eyes and shiver from the contact.

"I was afraid for you," Spock whispered. "I cannot lose you. I will not let you go. You are mine forever."

"Hey, it's okay," McCoy reassured him as he clumsily patted Spock's arm. Small rocks rolled away. "I'm okay." McCoy frowned as he felt Spock shaking. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. I won't let anything hurt us."

"You will not?" Spock asked, wanting to believe.

"No." 

Spock sighed in contentment and snuggled closer to McCoy.

McCoy grinned as he felt a familiar tingling in his nether regions. “Hey, don’t go getting me all stirred up. I don’t know if I can keep up with you for awhile.”

“I will wait, Doctor. Forever. Just let me hold you.” There was a sob in his voice.

Oh, hell, better change the mood before they were both bawling. “In the meanwhile, you’re not doing much to get us out of this cave.”

“I believe that I hear someone working on the other side of the rock.”

“I can’t believe that Jim actually let you come in here when everything was so unstable.”

“He did not. I acted on my own initiative, despite what he was recommending.”

McCoy tensed as he interpreted that. “You disobeyed a direct order?!”

“I had a good reason. It was even better than when you disobeyed me.”

“And what was that?”

"I had to get to you. I could never have been contented again."

"Well, yeah, I understand that and all, but you gotta stop doing stupid shit like that just for me. It ain't right."

"My decision," Spock said stubbornly.

"You're gonna be hard-assed about this, ain't you?"

"As hard-assed as if I had ingested liquid cement two days ago," Spock confirmed.

"Hell, you're stubborn," McCoy teased. "But, really, you gotta stop compromising your principles just because of me. I feel bad enough that I'm such a bad influence on you. But it's kinda fun to be thought of as someone that can lead men astray, though."

"Not men. Just one. No multiples. Not for you. Not anymore.”

McCoy grinned. "Possessive little bastard, ain't you?"

“You are mine. I knew that for certain when I was running for this cave. Nobody, nor anything, can have you. Just me." His eyes looked watery. "Not even Death."

Tears bit at McCoy's eyelids. "Spock. Don't.... Oh, hell, don't. You don't have to say it."

“But I do. I was so afraid for you. My heart was in my mouth. And if I could not save you, I might as well spit out my heart. For if you were gone from my life, I would no longer have any reason to keep my heart beating. For without you, I am dead.”

“You romantic dog! You exaggerate so!” McCoy arched an eyebrow and looked wise as a new thought struck him. “I reckon you sincerely showed just how much you cared for me when you disobeyed Jim to save me. It sounds like you made a mighty momentous commitment to me, Commander. It might even be thought of as a Grand Gesture, don't you think?”

Spock looked amazed. “I did make a commitment to you.”

“The way I see it, you committed the hell outa yourself. You might've set yourself up for a court martial by disobeying Jim, but you've pretty well committed yourself to me. Forever sounds like a long time and I'm not forgetting that you said that. Now, what are you gonna do about all of that?”

”I may know of a way to express my commitment.”

”Oh?” McCoy grinned. "Then show me.”

A few minutes later, Scotty and Kirk shoved rock aside and smiled down on the kissing pair. 

“I do believe that we have found them, sir. And they seem to be quite safe."

Kirk nodded. “They don’t look too worried about the stability of the mountain, Scotty, so I guess we needn’t hurry any about getting them dug outa here.”

McCoy waved at their rescuers, then he scattered rocks as he got a better grip on his Vulcan. He and Spock had other things on their minds. They couldn’t be concerned about a mountain caving in on them right now.

Let Scotty and Jim Kirk worry about details like that. McCoy and Spock were much too busy with more pressing business of their own.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
